The Adventures of Joe
Posted: Fri Nov 14, 2003 4:54 pm
I am going to start a story. When it is finished, I'm hoping for a work of collaborated creative writing that involves as many people on this forum as possible. Basically, you must use the newest post on the thread as your starting point, and be sure to end your paragraph/chapter with an open-end. The only foreseeable problem would be simultaneous posts, but since crap/not crap's popularity is as such, I doubt that will happen. The more ludicrous the better....
Joe woke up earlier than usual this morning. He was slow to roll out of the bed he'd crawled into only a few hours before. The inside of his mouth was dry to the point of coarseness, and all he could remember about the night before was hanging around a seedy bar on Chicago's south side. He sat for a moment on the edge of the matress to center himself (the alcohol was still only partially digested). It was fairly obvious that he would not get any more sleep in his current state of discomfort.
He decided to make himself a big, greasy breakfast, in hopes that it would absorb some his hind-sighted lament for the previous evening. He coaxed himself out into the hallway, down the staircase, and into the kitchen. Bacon and eggs seemed, to him, the obvious choice for any man in his predicament. More importantly, it was the only thing he knew how to make aside from macaroni & cheese.
He was lumbering around the kitchen in search of the ever-elusive frying pan, when he noticed the refrigerator door was partially opened. He paused for a second, realizing that his efforts thus far may have all been in vain. He opened the refrigerator expecting spoiled milk and cheese; he could not have been less prepared for what he would find instead...
Joe woke up earlier than usual this morning. He was slow to roll out of the bed he'd crawled into only a few hours before. The inside of his mouth was dry to the point of coarseness, and all he could remember about the night before was hanging around a seedy bar on Chicago's south side. He sat for a moment on the edge of the matress to center himself (the alcohol was still only partially digested). It was fairly obvious that he would not get any more sleep in his current state of discomfort.
He decided to make himself a big, greasy breakfast, in hopes that it would absorb some his hind-sighted lament for the previous evening. He coaxed himself out into the hallway, down the staircase, and into the kitchen. Bacon and eggs seemed, to him, the obvious choice for any man in his predicament. More importantly, it was the only thing he knew how to make aside from macaroni & cheese.
He was lumbering around the kitchen in search of the ever-elusive frying pan, when he noticed the refrigerator door was partially opened. He paused for a second, realizing that his efforts thus far may have all been in vain. He opened the refrigerator expecting spoiled milk and cheese; he could not have been less prepared for what he would find instead...