WORST OPENING PARAGRAPH.

The phone rang and Daughter ran to answer it. Unfortunately, as she grabbed the receiver, one foot landed on the thin cotton hall rug that was on the waxed hardwood floor and she went flying towards the open door. Ack. Fortunately, her father was just coming home from work and his bulk stopped her unorthodox flight. Unfortunately, her mother was standing in the kitchen doorway, bent over at the waist and laughing so hard that she couldn't hear who was on the other end of the telephone.

Her husband and daughter walked just ahead of them; she and her son walked in tandem. They were on Granville Street, where all the bums hung out, heckling the working stiff, cajoling for money. Sick of the begging, she told one of the more aggressive ones to get a job as she strode past, son snickering beside her. The lazy lout grabbed his crutch and ran after them, waving the crutch in the air, threatening them. "I'm Handicapped! I can't work!!" he yelled indignantly. "Right", snickered the son, "then why's he CARRYING his crutch?!" And the two laughed but nervously kept walking. The 'handicapped' lazy lout was still screaming and now he was attracting a lot of attention. She noticed her daughter and husband had crossed the street. She felt abandoned. Suddenly, they reached the corner and the light turned red. Oh no. Here comes the handicapped lazy lout. The crutch now looked menacing. Ack. Just then, the light turned green and she and her son breathed a big sigh of relief and crossed the road. They started laughing. Soon they were laughing so hard they were bent over at the waist and their stomachs hurt. Fear and relief will do that to you.

I feel bad about having to break into Mame's great streak here, but . . .

When Johnny woke up, he could hear the soft sounds of the robins that lived in the tree outside his window. They are singing their morning song, he though. He slowly kicked back the covers, feeling hesitant to leave the warm comfort of his bed in spite of the obviously beautiful day that awaited him. He could hear his wife downstairs, humming to herself and, judging by the smell, making coffee. He swung his feet off the bed - not knowing there was no floor underneath his side of the bed. His wife had removed it during the night, while he slept, thinking to herself how she couldn't stand to live with him any longer. Johnny fell two stories onto the solid granite block island in their kitchen below, killing him. His wife smiled.

Note: The author apologizes for the cold, heartless nature of the previous post, but he did just watch "Desperation" the other night.

ha ha ha - good one, Tin! I like it. Never mind HOW she removed the floor; it's enough that she did Good on ya...

There is nothing more to say. Howard is on his way back to the front having worked both the back and the front of Miriam several times in Room 273 of the Chelsea Hotel this morning between two and four. There were still between two and four sailors next door in Room 275 entertaining and being entertained by Miriam's half-sister-half brother Michael or Michaela depending on who was shouting the name at the time. The time to go had come, the time to co--well, there is really nothing else to say when I am reduced to that sort of thing. So, I am hailing this cab on 23rd Street with the idea of going uptown for some breakfast.


Joe(I think this could be a bad first or last paragraph)Nation

Everything that happens; happens for a purpose. So they tell me. My mouldered aunt Bets, she don't know. Not since they laid her in the coffin anyway. With chicken slathering down her throat: she's choking one minute, gasping to death the next. Both feet up, dead. The purpose in dying a sweet young or old thing with chicken lodged purports to dare the truth to be told, for I know not the what-for of the Provident's Way, the teething on bodies by Angel Death biting, it. Suffice, to say, she dead. Death of no purpose, other than that she died to death. a corpse not unlike corpse state of being. And Clear Runway. Be damned logic (purpose) of lying off runway (dead), for so our story begins. And you, dear reader, to be our first witness. Be prepared, and beware . . .

would that Aunt Bets also be your mama?

I don't get the significance of your question . . .

BAck in the days before the GReat Flood, humans and beasts lived together in harmony. Dinosaurs and tigers were vegetarians and man had no fear of attack in this Edenic World. Then something happened that is really hard to believe; even with all of todays science and technology. This is a story about the bitch that started it all....

Sorry - just something about your vernacular - apologies!

Okey-dokey

Mame, do you somehow know me? Daughter sounds suspiciously like moi, a slipping and a sliding; graceful in my utter clumsiness, with food stains on my front as if a shelf is there to catch any drooling droppings. Happy but horrible. Thank heaven for prints.

Carry on.

There's something about a klutz you just gotta love, and if you're anything like my beloved Denise, you're likely a HOOT. And we're all positive she's stopped falling upstairs...But no one's checking and she's not saying

"Harvey!"
"Mmph"
"Harvey!"
"Mmph?"
"Harvey! Wake up.!"
"Mmmmph? Oh. Uh, name's Harry."
"Get your pants."
"Harry."
"Get your pants, Harry."
"Mmmph."
"Get. Your. Pants."
"Wha?"
"Get your pants on, Harvey."
"I've got my pants on."
"I heard something."
"Oh."
"I thought I heard a car in the driveway."
"Hey. I don't have my pants on."
"Get up. I think he's back."
"Who?"
"Leo."
"Where are my pants? Who's Leo?"
"Shhh."
"Who's Leo?"
"Hurry up."
"Who's Leo?"
"Shhhhh!"
"I'm going to need my other boot. Who's Leo?"
"I'm Leo."

Brilliant, Joe. Love it.

"Hey Bill, I thought Bob told me that Jan said that Ron told her that Frank said that Sherri told him that Karen said that Jason told her that Nate said that Will told him that Gary said that Chuck told him that Ingrid said that Francisco told her that Doug said that Ryan told him that Dale said that Gwen told him that Debbi said that Erik told her that Gina said that Mike told her that Andy said you were out of town," Kim said. "Really?" Bill said. "Bob told me that Francisco told him that Will said that Karen told him that Gina said that Gary told her that Frank said that Andy told him that Chuck said that Debbi told him that Jan said that Nate told her that Jason said that Ingrid told him that Dale said that Doug told him that Sherri said that Gwen told her that Ryan said that Erik told him that Mike said you were out of town. Funny how that works."

I know the answer to this question. I know it. Yeah. What sat on the mat? Well, I know that one, cos my momma tells it like ... twice a month. Could be once a month though. Or perhaps once every two months. I oughta pay more attention to her. Now. What sat on the mat? It's gotta be the bat. I know the bat sat on the mat, cos my dad tripped over it while I was gearing up for baseball practice. He was mighty pissed about it too. But then again, that ain't no proverb. Besides, it could be one of them other bats, the flying blind kind. But I always thought those hang down in like dark caves, and wouldn't sit on mats. Hmm. Perhaps it was the hat on the mat? Not that hats sit a lot of course, but you know, most people do leave their hat close to their coat which is usually close to the front door, so it could be B. Hat. I really oughta listen more to my mom.
Could be cat of course. Cats sit. They could just as well sit on mats. 'Xcept ours sits on the laundry. Never on the mat. It's great weather outside. Perhaps John wants to go play some hoops with me? Damn, need to concentrate. OH rats, I'm never gonna find it. Hey... wait a minute... Rats... D. Rat. That's gotta be like one of them premuni... premini... premunitions? I gotta listen more to to mom. Ok, D it is.
Only 9 more questions to go. Sure is nice weather outside...

Almonds! I craved almonds. There was nothing else that would do, and so I grabbed the cyanide capsule and crunched it into my mouth. Yes, alm---

Krons was known as the Cranky Clown. He only made Kip the Dog part of the act so he could kick him around. Kip was a miniature weenie dog, but with large humongous teeth. During one of the big top shows, when dozens of clowns were running around all frantic and doing clown thingies, like run-in-a-circle-jump-up-and-fall-down, and stuffing tiny cars with dozens of bodies Krons went too far. He put Kip in a baby buggy and set it on fire. Pushing the contraption around, all aflame, with billowing black smoke, shouting, "Help! Save my baby!" the clown stumbled, dumping the carriage in the sawdust. He sprawled on his back, having difficulty getting up. Kip saw his chance. In a flash, his great teeth were buried in his master's throat. Kron's arms thrashed. He saw everything flash before his eyes, now brilliantly, now darkly. He was fast losing consciousness.

It was when I lanced a blind boil at the age of six, that I first realised that one of my testicles had dropped.

The moment had finally arrived, me and my new wife stood in front of our new home. She insisted I adhere to that time old custom of carrying the bride into the new house. I could never refuse her anything, so I lifted her up and walked towards the door. Or so I thought. One of the constructors had left some of his tools on our premises and I failed to notice them, distracted by her playful banter. So I bumped quite unexpectedly into a barrow. I lost my balance, and stumbled to the right, where I lost my footing due to stepping on a slippery shovel. Instead of carrying my wife through the door, I carried her through the window. It broke and we went through, but not before slashing open her face and ripping my left arm into bloody stripes of flesh.