Doug

giraffe: Loved the "7 deadly sins..." What a hoot. I miss George Carlin. He was one of the funniest comedians ever. He had his own brand of humor. I would rank Bill Cosby and Richard Pryor up there as well. I have fond memories of listening to Bill Cosby records with my mom. I still told the Chicken Heart story to my kids until they grew out of it.

Five: unimaginable elegance and and effortlessness in your use of the word list. I knew this one would be right up your alley.

Sorry if I missed anyone, but I'm sure I"ll be back.

Dragon

Hahaha Doug, I thought I was the only one who knew the Chicken Heart story!

giraffe

Hey, Doug. I love your untitled story. I'm just trying to figure out how many prostitutes and blow-up dolls I can add and stay within the word limit. Wink.

five

Speaking of seemingly effortless use of the word list, your tale flowed wonderfully, Doug.

Everyone has done a nice job with the word list -- it was a challenging one, I think.

giraffe

Yeah, 5. I got pissed off, but then I got it. It's restrictive at first and then wide open. I really like the idea of allowing the TorchBearer to make up their own rules. It's brought a lot out of all of us.

Doug

giraffe: I totally disagree. I think midnight poet outdid herself in being sadistic with this word list "wink". How in the world does farting flow in any story. This is the toughest word list I've seen since I started participating in ThinkWrite. Kudos to you whip girl and I"ll say damn at the same time. tee-hee as marius would say. Where is marius?

Doug

giraffe: Go ahead with the blow up dolls. Bring em' on! May an orb strike you and scorch the hair off of your head. Or maybe you already bald. oops. :')

midnightpoet

Posting from my phone again because I haven't had time to connect with my muse for a proper post. I am reading everything and I'm quite pleased. I will try to connect with the divine one tomorrow to make a real post. Also, due to complications, the torch will not be passed until Monday, the 5th.

giraffe

Doug. You know how I love destroying other peoples' stories. So you're next, Buddy. You're gonna hate this. I might be losing my mind, but it's fun for me and that's all I give a shucks about.

UNTITLED by Doug. Bastardized by Giraffe.

Ok, I'm in finally. It took 3 months to even get a date with him. He had a long weekend with the wife and kids which he enjoyed immensely. He gained a tad over at 105 ounces this year, but that won't change a thing. I'm determined. Of course it's something pretty off the wall for me to do this. Or un-normal for me, but I have no title to any throne or rulership. I finally realized that. From now on, I'm my own bitch.

It's his eyes. Those bright blue orbs that almost hypnotize me. I feel so energized by his enervated ions, It seems as we're dancing crazily through a mystic portal. My lust is only deflated by the mist hanging like drapery along the outer walls.

It's flatulence. The other guests smelled it too. We watched as they languidly disappeared. "Was it bad shrimp?" someone asked at the coat check.

I heard something emitting a “pop”. It was the guy in the corner's date - a blow up doll - who just got popped by the high heel of his other date.

Honey, this is a really creative party, It's very weird though That guy's slapping his chair making it sound like conductors’ wands whipping. And that girl swings back and forth She wails into a crescendo…then silence, This whole party is not a peaceful scenario. Can we go somewhere familiar like the site of grandma’s caftan nestling her as she rests? I think this party's about over.

Hey, party girl. I've got to work. You want to go to a cemetary, feel free. I'm gonna stick around and maybe slap that chick who popped Richie's doll. Have fun in the graveyard.

Many more showed up. It was still his eyes. You see him once and can only be entranced by the sheer delight of watching the orbs float. You want nothing more than to have all 4 of your eyes come together in one brilliant arc of light and then expatriate themselves into tiny liquid globules of dim beauty. The liquidness of tears, I guess.

Nobody is focusing on that much avariciousness any more. It's more about lewdness at any price. All of us were groveling…drooling to see the show over and over again. When his music started, he got up and slowly removed his pants. Applause. Women came from all over the room with tens and twenties to slip under his little string

I changed my mind about leaving. I stepped forward and joined them…

Doug

Actually giraffe I rather enjoyed it even with the blow up doll routine; what a hoot! I think you did fine by my tiny bit of orbs story. You made it your own, but I loved seeing my lines come to life in a different way. Sorry to ruin your day but I loved it!

I think you did a fine job on other story starters you expanded. As a matter of fact I think it was some of your best writing to date.

So take THAT!

midnightpoet

everyone's reality is a flexible
substance
that languidly shifts about
like a caftan
in a flatulent breeze

you are the conductor in
the symphony
of your life
and you can enervate and entrance
and inspire
avariciousness or generosity

let us all take a moment
of awe
to grovel
at the endless possibilities
this flexible
reality
offers us

if you can deflate
your ego
you can inflate your soul

Qsilv

...niiiiiiiiiii-i-i-ice!

(and girl, if you picked that all out on your cell-phone, I'm quadruply impressed!)

midnightpoet

Took me about half an hour to post that little poem from my phone. This is why I'm waiting for my muse so I can make a longer post.

giraffe

Dammit, Doug. What do I have to do to piss you guys off? I've tried everything from soft porn to confusion over sexual orientation. I give up. Maybe I'll try writing religious stories. LOL. Love you all too.

giraffe

Midnight. You rewrote Metaphysics 101 in a few sentences. If more folks realized that they create their own realities, then what? Co-creations include you and your muse. I think the only way to expand on it would be mass creations like religion and wars. I like it just the way it is.

Midnight_Poets_Muse

Massive Post by Proxy for the Mistress Poet... Read on, Mortals!

I feel like I should clear up the way my posting has been working in this thread. When I post under my own name that is me posting from my cell phone -- which is ridiculously difficult. When Midnights_Poet_Muse posts by proxy he is posting the exact words I dictate over the phone. When he does NOT specify he is posting for me by proxy, then what he says has nothing to do with me. So, with that cleared up, on with the torch-bearer-commenting-duties.

I’m not going to try to dictate over the phone individual comments for everything posted. I will do that when I get my hands on a computer, but I’ve got to say I’m absolutely loving what you are all doing. I know the list and count this time were a challenge (or, as Doug said “sadistic”,) but you have all risen to the challenge easily fitting each of the words into short, flowing stories. I’ve enjoyed what each of you has written and even more enjoyed the response to the challenge. I think it’s very interesting to see the different interpretations of a wide open story. For example there have been three different stories based on mine all wonderful but none going the direction I had in mind and that’s the best part I think. We all leave a little of ourselves in our stories and it’s beautiful to see those parts combine and take on a life of their own.

You guys and gals blow my mind. Thank you for rising to the challenge and for having patience with me as an absentee TB.

Qsilv

Quick note just to say how much I'd love to see (in the extra time given by your logistical predicament, Midnight) the original authors of each micro-story give their OWN expanded vision!

;>

giraffe

Midnight. Something for your muse or amusement. People used to write books and even entire operas using nothing but a pen and paper. They didn't have telephones, computers, Xerox machines or cars. Still they pulled it off.

All the technology helps, but it isn't necessary. People did without it for a long time.

giraffe

everyone's reality is a flexible
substance
that languidly shifts about
like a caftan
in a flatulent breeze

you are the conductor in
the symphony
of your life
and you can enervate and entrance
and inspire
avariciousness or generosity

let us all take a moment
of awe
to grovel
at the endless possibilities
this flexible
reality
offers us

if you can deflate
your ego
you can inflate your soul

If you can untie your shoe laces
you can undo your cross beliefs.
If you believe in inferority
then you are inferior.

If you want to be rich
that won't work
since you hate rich people
and envy their wealth

If you want to be free
but abhor others' freedoms
you'll die on the vine
just give it time
just give it time

Doug

Q...I accept your challenge.

The Train Ride

The aging conductor blows the warning whistle as he nears the entrance to the Mystic Rock Mountain tunnel. He’d made a lifetime of trips through and never once had the warning been needed. Today, with radiant blue skies with tinges of sapphire streaks hitting the mountain peak John with a slight tug on his overall belt loop eased the engine to the opening of the tunnel. Inside he knew was total darkness except for his headlight which beamed like a sideways lighthouse. The beam of light leapt along the craggy walls and glistened with a distinct metallic hue as it shown on the tracks ahead. Half way through the journey was when it happened. John would never be the same again. Bright blue orbs energized by enervated ions dancing crazily through a mystic portal only deflated by the mist hanging like drapery along the outer walls. Flatulent as they languidly disappeared emitting a “pop” making it sound like conductors’ wands whipping…back and forth…a crescendo…then silence…a peaceful scenario…familiar like the site of grandma’s caftan nestling her as she rests.

One could only be entranced by the sheer delight of watching the orbs float, come together in one brilliant arc of light and then expatriate themselves into tiny liquid globules of dim beauty. Avariciousness…groveling…drooling to see the show over and over again. This particular spectacle struck John dumb. He stood stock still not wanting to miss a nanosecond of its beauty. He eased back on the great iron horses’ throttle and came to a complete stop. He came out of his stupor and started to shake each muscle quivering like he had a massive Charlie horse coursing throughout his body. His eyes glazed over and then he saw nothing. Nothing but the darkness of the tunnel and the eerie silence he had created by stopping the engine. He was alone, afraid and for the first time in his long life he didn’t know what to do.

Moments passed that seemed like legions of time. His eyes began to adjust to the blackness that surrounded him and in the distance he saw a single point of blue light growing brighter and drawing nearer until he could see the full round mass of the blue orb mere inches from his engine. Tendrils of blue began to extend out of the sphere and come closer.

A sense of wonder, joy and peace engulfed John as the orb’s blue extensions touched him for the first time. It felt welcoming.

John stepped forward and joined them.