A continuing story.........

This is a continuation of another thread.

http://www.able2know.com/forums/viewtopic.php?t=570&start=0


We've dropped the male/female alternating requirement because we were all ignoring it anyway. We're writing in the present tense, but if you'd rather write in any other tense, please feel free. Don't mind us, however, when we ridicule you for not doing it right. :wink:

As you may observe, the story can run on more than one track at a time. Hopefully, sometimes, the several will be brought together for a while, diverging again along the way.

Enjoy.


In a small Texas town, a young, vulnerable, sweet, buddingly beautiful girl takes her dishes to the sink and kisses her mother good bye for the day.

"I'm off to school," chirps Blossom Flower, as she heaves her massive back pack over her shoulder for her quick trip to the high school down the street. The back pack is worn from so many years of service, green with yellow letters reading, "North Angle High School". It was her mother's back pack, new when she was in school, years ago. On the flap Blossom has pinned a large, round picture button. The smiling little girl in the picture is Blosson herself in the fourth grade at the Halloween carnival. Mrs. Pickens had snapped the shot. Blossom loves remembering how she was the most popular girl in her grade school.

"Bye, honey, have a nice day," calls her mother as Blossom Flower skips down the front steps of her quaint, yet humble home.

"Hey, Blossom," calls, Richard Lightheart, the guy next door as he heaves his huge back pack over his shoulder and runs to catch up with Blossom. Like Blossom's, Richard's back pack is from the ancient past as well. It had been new when his father had carried it with him into the drug store and first set eyes on Richard's mom. As the story goes, it had been love at first sight.

Richard's been waiting for Blosson to emerge from her front door for the past 15 minutes, but wants to look as if he's simply happened upon her.

"Gee," says Richard, "I'm glad I ran into you. I've been studying for my Calculus exam and I'm stumped on one problem from the study guide. I'm really worried about it too because you know the exam is tomorrow and I have to get at least a 98 to out do Gus and make sure I'm in the running for valedictorian next year when we graduate. I was wondering, Blossom if you'd help me tonight. I know you have no trouble with Calculus."

Blossom is surprised and thrilled to be asked to help. She just loves helping others. It makes her feel powerful and invincible. She doesn't even mind that Richard is competing with Gus. She's even less concerned that he doesn't seem to understand that his real competition is none other than herself. After all it's not her fault that he's not as smart as she is. She knows he'll be surprised when he discovers she's out done him next year for the valedictorian position. But hey, he needs the honor to be eligible for a scholarship to Harvard, and she knows her parents wisely established an educational trust for her before she was born. She'll have no worry about paying for college. Poor Richard, he'll be so disappointed to have to take second best. But that's what he gets for being such a self centered prick and not noticing her competitive superiority. She's so unselfish, as a matter of fact, that she'll gladly help him make a good grade on his test so he can feel powerful and boost his self esteem. Blossom knows that Richard doesn't feel very good about himself because he's constantly trying to out do everyone else in the school. If he were more like her, she thinks, he wouldn't be so concerned about the opinions of others. She believes she can help him be less concerned about his own wishes, and more concerned for the welfare of others. If she's very giving, maybe Richard will learn by her excellent example.

"Oh, Richard," says Blossom. "You know I love to study with you. How about if we meet right after the afternoon Bible study at Mr. Christiansen's house. About 6:30? Oh no, now that I think about it we should eat our dinner first, because our folks will want us to be at home for mealtime. How about 7:30, your house?"

"Gee," says Richard, "that's nifty."

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Blossom flips her long, naturally blonde hair out of her eyes and skips down the front steps of her porch on her way to Richard's for their study date. "I'll be so glad when I'm finally sixteen and can go on real dates," she thinks. Only one more year to go.

Knocking on the screen door of Richard's house, Blossom lets herself in. The Flowers and Lighthearts have been next door neighbors for longer than any of them can remember. Blossom remembers when she was so small she couldn't turn the doorknob by herself, and Mrs. Lightheart would have to put down her feather duster and let Blossom in for milk and cookies. They were not only next door neighbors, but best friends. They would always be a part of each others' lives.

"Richard?" Blossom calls out. There is no noise in the house except for the droning of the television.

Richard sits on the sofa in the den, surrounded by his family. Mr. Lightheart (a tax accountant), Mrs. Lightheart (homemaker), Lily (Richard's annoying little sister), and their two dogs, Snort and Buster, are all staring at the television. An important news bulletin has just interrupted programming.

"Can you believe it?" Richard says, turning to Blossom. "Some nutcase up North is shooting at people from a blimp!"

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Meanwhile, back in the other story:

Nick, finding the only redeeming feature of baseball being the 7th inning stretch, heads out for western skies. Pulling into East Orange he notices an immediate cultural diaspora of emigrants seeking solace from the boutiques of lavender and fushia personalities. He buys a jug of Thunderbird and settles into the back seat of his GMC Jimmy. The ladies may think penguins are cute but Nick knows that ladies love outlaws. He falls asleep. In the post dawn Lola raps on his car window with a fresh cup of Jamaica Blue Mountain. Life is good.


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How did Nick know that Lola loved outlaws? Especially outlaws in GMC Jimmys. Is she that transparent? Is she too easy? In the hands of an outlaw, Lola is...........putty............