Male/female alternating story word game!

On the other end of the line, Mrs. Nutella, the mother, was saying, "Well, you've got a right to talk, Blackie, I must say. You're no prize yourself, you know. Always puttin' on airs and that. Shasta hasn't had the advantage of your education, which, I'll remind you, your father and I hellped to pat for. Still and all, she IS your sister and hasn't done all that badly for a high-school dropout. It's not every girl with her limited background gets to be CEO of a large company like Whizzbangs Ltd. of Delaware... What?...No, I don't know what the company makes or does, but it's impressive for Shasta to be CEO, don't you think?" Mrs. Nutella always called her daughters by the childhood names she had picked for them. Daisy was Shasta and Susan was Blackie. And Bird of Paradise, the youngest, was always Birdie to Mrs. Nutella, although the girl had long ago changed her name to Deborah.

"What do you mean you patted for my education?" said Susan - astonished - and imagining thousands of dogs collecting at her parents' home to be patted while she was away at university - which had, as it happened, been paid for by her hard-earned scholarship - "Mother, really, I don't understand you sometimes!"

"That's ok," Mum rejoined. "I don't understand myself sometimes. And, of course, nobody can understand you." "Izzatso?" Susan shot bavk.

Bill thought Susan was talking to him when she said "Izzatso?" So he replied, "Well, yeah. I really think we should cut our spending. We go out way too much, the long distance bills to your home town are outrageous, and the cats need braces."

Susan cut him off with her yelling into the phone. "No, Ma! Birdie is NOT here! She left to join that country music-playing biker cult three years ago! You've got to let that go! Hang on, I have another call." The phone beeped in her ear. Susan clicked the other line. "Hello? Oh, hi Deborah! How are things going on the combination Duck Tour-Blue Man Group traveling road show? Good, good. Listen, I've gotta go. Ma isn't believing the cult story too much any more, and Bill wants to have dinner. Hugs to Dave. Yes, you too. Bye." Susan clicked twice and lost the connection to her mother. She hung up the phone.

"And I said the cats need braces. Aren't you paying attention?" demanded Bill.

"Oh, yes, well, they wouldn't if you didn't feed them salt water taffy all the time. Now, if the phone rings, it'll be my mother as we were cut off. So I think we should leave before the phone rings." Susan ran to get her coat before Bill could protest.

The phone rang. Against his better judgment, Bill picked it up. "No, we don't want to buy any Vidalia ice cream!" He slammed down the phone, under his breath muttered, "stupid telemarketers!" as Susan returned.

"Who was that? Was that my mom? Is she mad?"

"Yes, it was her. But I took care of her. Ready?"

The bucktoothed cats looked on in amazement.

LOL!

And so did the tarantulets on the shelf above the stove. Having finished their dinner -- which, if you recall, had consisted of their hapless brother -- they were looking for something to nosh on as a treat. Now, those two mangy cats looked inviting.

LOL too LOL LOL LOL

Once outside, Bill began to sneeze. "You know," he said to nobody, because Susan wasn't listening, "I love those damn cats, but I think I'm allergic."

"Um huh," said Susan, as she watched a handsome hunk of a man walk by. "Must have been running in the park," thought Susan, "look at the bum on that guy, and he's sweating a little too."

"Are you listening to me, Susan?" says Bill. I said I think I'm allergic to the cats, my nose is all itchy and look here where Mouser caught my arm with his claw. I think it may get infected, I should have a tetnus shot, or I could get cat scratch fever!"

Susan felt an impatience she hadn't noticed before. She wanted something, but she wasn't quite sure what it was.

"Let's go for a walk before we eat. I could use a little exercise," said Susan turning in the direction the man with the body had come from.

"Aw, Susan," said Bill, "I don't feel very well, I still have this damned headache and I don't feel like exercising right now. I'll get chin splints, you know I will, I haven't been eating enough bananas in my diet, I'm low on Potassium. You know, you really should go more often to the grocery store, we don't have enough ruffage in our diets."

"Braces?" said the beautiful Siamese in unison.

"That's it - I am out of here, this place is waaaaay too weird now" said Oscar to Miranda.

"But - what about Susan?" demurred Miranda.

"Look - how about we go live in the park across the road - we can check on Susan, and if she unloads that spooky guy in the next little while, we can come home. I don't want to leave her either - but - well, I've taken just about as much as I can take...."

With many a backward look and regretful mew, the cats leaped from the balcony to the top of a large tree, and from there to the footpath. They carefully crossed the horrible road and reached the green sanctuary of the park, where they found a nice, warm hollow in a tree, caught a rat, and settled in.

Little did the cats know that the hollow in the tree they had settled into was the tiny spider's summer cottage.

The spiders, having seen the cats climb into their oh so humble alternate abode, were NOT pleased. "How dare they just move on in!" exclaimed Barky, the smallest of the spiders. "I say we go for it! We can take on those flea infested cats!" The others agreed. This was to much to bear. They quickly formed a plan of attack and proceeded across the road and into the park themselves.

Once they arrived in the park they set about spinning a thick web across the opening of the tree where the cats had climbed in. The cats, having fed on the rat, were sound asleep and noticed nothing while the spiders worked in absolute silence, finished their work and that set about the next step in their plan. Barky chuckled to himself. He was amused at the prospect of cat for dinner...

Fortunately, Miranda's rather nervous disposition led to her being startled awake by the squeals of glee uttered by the spiderlings as they went about their natural, if disgusting, task.

Her response was to scream so loudly, and to leap so hard for freedom, that the spiders not crushed by her bounding body scuttled feverishly for safety in the tree.

Oscar came awake more slowly - and gazed mildly around for a moment - before leaping through the gap in the web made by the crazed Miranda.


The cats gathered, shuddering, below the tree.

"I am not at all sure about leaving Susan alone with those things about" said Oscar reflectively....

Observing all this activity placidly, barely blinking now and then, was a little red squirrel astride a stout limb of the tree.

"Stupid cats." Squirrel thought. "That hole was 'way too small for them anyway. Even I wouldn't want a den that snug. I wonder..."

A sudden idea came into the squirrel's head.

Susan and Bill were finishing up their dinner and ordering coffee. They were tempted to order dessert, but Bill didn't want to get fat. He was convinced sugar made him hyperactive and chocolate made his face break out. Besides, they would probably soon discover that anything baked causes cancer.

Sitting as they were at a little table on the sidewalk of the cafe across the street from the park, Susan observed a sudden movement around the big oak tree with the hole in it. The one she jogged past every morning at 7 A.M. It looked a little like a squirrel, and two cats with a swarm of black spiders running as fast as they could along the trail toward her house.

Looking down from his very large deck, and shaking his head in a manner any objective observer would have described as sad dismay, God was again consumed by anxiety and self-doubt. sisters hating each other, wives stabbing husbands in the neck with forks, brothers being eaten by sisters, simpy allergenics, and a 100 channel TV dial with nothing worth watching...what a bloody disappointment it all seemed.

Brushing her hair gently away from her face, Mrs God stood beside him and noticed the guy in the park with the really nice bum.

LOL!

I don't know if I dare follow that one!!!! have to mull a bit! Any takers?

Girls' turn or I would.

You have had granted to you the very royal and august order of temporary girl for this turn Merry!

The Gods lived in a penthouse on 5th Avenue, overlooking Central Park. Mr. God had become a social gadfly since his retirement as CEO of a Fortune500 company and this was a rare occasion, his being home and watching the goings on below through his high-powered binoculars. Mrs. God was thoroughly bored with her husband.

Felix God's name had originally been Felix Gottseidank, amouthful, to be sure, But he hadn't changed it to God for that reason. No, what prompted the name change by deed poll (he had not been CEO then, but the firm's VP for European operations, and living in London) was the day when one of his notoriously dictatorial orders had been questioned by a subordinate.

"Who do you think you are? God?" the subordinate had shouted.

And Felix Gottseidank had smiled. Yes, he had thought, yes, I will be. And so he was.

For this opportunity, dlowan, my thanks.

Mrs. God had to wonder, what was the point of being a God if you didn't get any God perks? No thunder, no lightning, nothing. Changing your name is well and good, but if you can't get a better table at Le Cirque, if the maitre'd still calls you Mrs. Felix and asks you to wait, what's the point?

She brushed her hair as she stared out the window at the perfect bum in the park