amonkie

To close out the year... here is what we'll do:


Pick a previous writing challenge that has been created in which you have NOT participated already - Some writers were quite active at the beginning but have since died off (me included ), others joined us later in the year. I know there is not one person who has completed ALL 48 so far

Complete the writing challenge that you have chosen, and post it in the thread with the previous submissions. If you are so inclined, complete more than one! If I can find a few extra minutes I will edit my original post for this thread and link you to the previous threads. They are all titled Writing Challenge # ____, so just do a search within the Tilted Lit forum.

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Calling from deep in the heart, from where the eyes can't see and the ears can't hear, from where the mountain trails end and only love can go... ~~~ Three Rivers Hare Krishna

Poppinjay

Such a sad time it was when the show came to an end. Affiliates had been dropping over the years, but the death knell was when Paul was caught in that theater with his dingus in his hands.

There had been times when we shared those moments together. When his appetite could be sated by a VHS tape sent by mail. But he was maniacal about the possibility a paparazzi would fish out the mailing packet from his trash. So he strayed… I dealt with it. I comforted myself with the memories. The fact that he was caught in a smut theater was pure irony. By that time, we’d already grown apart.

Early on, the show was a HUGE hit. Everywhere we went, fans by the legion. Paul had a taste of the high life and it was like the most intoxicating drug. He had to have more. When talk came out of a multi picture deal, he assured us we’d all be included. “Most of all you, Chairy,” he said to me. His eyes had that moistness that compelled me to believe him. Here my troubles began.

“Big Adventure” or as we called it, PWHBA (“pooh-ba”), was the first sign that we were all to be remaindered to the bargain bin at Camelot Music and Video. I had a part but Paul actually wrote me out himself. Gambi told me not to fuss about it. He was afraid I’d become known as “difficult”. He told me about dozens of furniture he knew that ended up selling themselves on the streets and flea markets. It didn’t matter to me. The number of times he wiped on me after a tape, I was already dirty. Dirty for life. Oh, how I’d scrub whenever he left the house. The stains on my arms eventually disappeared, but the stains in my headrest live on to this day.

Paul dumped me. It was no surprise. He called me into his treehouse one day and laid it on me like woolite. “Chairy…” he said, using the voice. Oh, that voice. It’s that voice that would make me forgive him to this day, not quite a boy, but not yet a man. “I think you know we’ve grown apart…” That’s all I remember. I lubricated my feelings with $400 scotch that Chuck Norris had given me after he did a guest shot on the TV show. That night, I drunkenly called Paul and begged him to take me back. I offered to do anything, even go to synagogue with him. He just laughed at me.

Gambi was right. I ended up on the street. Like so many pathetic show biz types, I desperately took any role that was offered, even appearing in a porno with Kato Kaelin. I did blow, hell I kept Colombia in business 1987-1999. By the time “Big Top” hit the screens, I was no longer on Paul’s Christmas card list. I took no pleasure in his debacle in Florida. I knew he’d recover. Not like it was, but okay, you know? And he did. I didn’t. Everybody in Hollywood knew how he had used me. I even got sympathy from Ronnie Specter.

After fighting it, I’ve given myself up to the streets. Michael Stipe saw me a week ago and tried to organize a benefit concert on my behalf, but I told him no. Save it for the shiny happy people.

Excerpt from "Chairy, A Life Unraveled"

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I think the Apocalypse is happening all around us. We go on eating desserts and watching TV. I know I do. I wish we were more capable of sustained passion and sustained resistance. We should be screaming and what we do is gossip. -Lydia Millet

pan6467

PoppinJay,

That was hilarious and so creative.... I am in awe of your greatness, brother.

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I just love people who use the excuse "I use/do this because I LOVE the feeling/joy/happiness it brings me" and expect you to be ok with that as you watch them destroy their life blindly following. My response is, "I like to put forks in an eletrical socket, just LOVE that feeling, can't ever get enough of it, so will you let me put this copper fork in that electric socket?"

Charlatan

Poppinjay... that was great.

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"My hands are on fire. Hands are on fire. Ain't got no more time for all you charlatans and liars."
- Old Man Luedecke

Eweser

Great work Poppinjay!

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"Whoever wrote this episode should die!"

Poppinjay

Thanks!

I didn't want Amonkie to get discouraged about the drop off in participation. So let's hear your stories and poems.

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I think the Apocalypse is happening all around us. We go on eating desserts and watching TV. I know I do. I wish we were more capable of sustained passion and sustained resistance. We should be screaming and what we do is gossip. -Lydia Millet

ngdawg

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Don't blame me. I didn't vote for either of'em.

Shadow_fire

I think the Michael Stipes comment was possibly the most honestly humorous thing I have ever read. Like ever. Well...maybe not quite as funny as Douglas Adams, but close.