Chain Story

Is anyone game for doing a chain story? Its an exercise on collaborative writing- I find it helps to get the creative muscles in shape.

Da Rulz are as follows,

Someone writes a paragraph or two of fiction, and someone else follows the thread. There is no limit to how many times you post, but always allow for at least one other person to contribute before adding again.

Jocelyn slipped on a patch of ice in front of the post office, spilling her recently purchased double espresso mocha. While the jar of the fall helped to wake her up, she knew that without caffeine she was sure to get a headache.

"Dammit!" she said, thinking more of the $2.50 wasted than of her bruised coccyx.

She lay on the cold sidewalk for a moment, wallowing in her utter sense of defeat when the day had barely begun. Trying to be more positive, she was glad she'd chosen to wear jeans rather than the skirt she'd been eyeballing that morning, it might have ridden or flown up during the fall and revealed her plain white hanes "granny panties." That would have been unfortunate for all parties potentially involved.

Someone stopped. "Are you all right?"

Jocelyn looked up into deep brown whirlpool eyes and her heart skipped a beat when she realized it was the wrong day for a trip to the post office. The man looking down at her was none other than...

A certified coccyx repairman. You tell by the patch on his shirt.

"Sorry about the whirlpool eyes," he said. "I bought these contacts from the guy who sells me my X and I can't get them out. But your eyes look a little bloodshot, like you might have been rubbing them all over a skirt only this morning."

"Wow. You're good," said Jocelyn. "I WAS rubbing my eyes all over a skirt this morning. It was covered with parrot feathers, only I didn't notice because I was blinded by my crusty morning eye goobers. It's a really wierd family trait, these mutant eye goobers."

Jocelyn rubbed her bloodshot eyes, which the coccyx repairman noticed would have been brown, minus the whirlpools.

"Name's Jeremiah. You know, you should really have that coccyx repaired."

"Thanks, " said Jocelyn. "But I think perhaps I should get up off of the sidewalk first."

"I can fix it for you. I'm rollin' right now, but that's okay because it makes me better at my job."

"That's a kind offer," Jocelyn responded. She slowly got back on her feet. "But I think I'd rather numb the pain with a little substance abuse of my own. You coccyx repairmen are expensive."

Jeremiah shrugged. "I'd do it for free. Seriously. I'd love to help you out by getting my hands on your-"

Jeremiah was interrupted by...

the blinding light radiating from Jocelyn's mouth as she flashed him a toothy grin. Jeremiah took a couple of steps back and shielded his eyes, "Hey man! What's up with your teeth??!!"
"My teeth?" Jocelyn quipped while digging in her purse for a mirror.
"Yeah man, your teeth! They're...glowing!"
"Still? Ithought they wouldn't be so obvious in the daylight."
"Well, what the hell happened to them?"
"I used one of those teeth whitening things to give me a 'brighter whiter smile' for my interview tomorrow. I guess it worked."
"No shit."
"I'm kind of hoping the brightness tones down a bit, but then again, the extra light comes in really handy when..."

"I'm kind of hoping the brightness tones down a bit, but then again, the extra light comes in really handy when I go spelunking."

Jeremiah stepped back a moment, because the word sounded vaguely frightening to him. "Listen girly, I don't know what you have in mind, but no one is putting anything up my rear end. Except for my proctologist. Okay, and maybe that exotic dancer whose coccyx I adjusted last month, but thatt's it." Jeremian paused. "Well, no there might be another couple of -"

"I would just love to stand here all day," Jocelyn interrupted, "with my wet fanny, bruised coccyx, thermo-nuclear teeth and caffeine headache listening to this highly educational speech but-"

Jeremiah interrupted Jocelyn, "Jesus! I get it. See ya." Jeremiah shook his head as he walked away.

Jocelyn hid her retina burning smile behind her hand as she watched Jeremiah cross the street.
There was no need to hide the neon rays of her grin for long, however, for when Jeremiah crossed the street...

...for when Jeremiah crossed the street a giant sink hole opened right in front of him. Before he had time to react, he fell in and found himself in an underground cave. Only small stips of light penetrated the darkness through the dust.

"Damn," he said outloud, "If only I had Jocelyn here with her freakazoid teeth I'd be able to see where the hell I am!"

Jeremiah was about to start yelling for help when...

Jeremiah was about to start yelling for help when Jocelyn's inner good samaritan kicked in. Reluctantly, she walked to the edge of the sinkole and opened her mouth wide, shedding light on the truth of Jeremiah's predicament.

Jeremiah looked up and raised a hand to sheild his eyes "Your mouth is like a damn deer spotter!"

Jocelyn's eyes widened. Jeremiah was in imminent danger. She wasn't his biggest fan, but she didn't want to watch him get killed.

"OONG OOO!" Jocelyn said. What she meant was, "Don't move!

" I can't understand what you're trying to say," Jeremiah shouted up at her.

"Don't move!" She shouted down, light flashing from her mouth like a strobe. Her warning came too late. The best she could do for Jeremiah was keep her mouth open and hope that he could find a way to escape the...

...and hope that he could find a way to escape the quickly multipling wave of killer turtles that were hurling themselves towards him (at a very unremarkable speed of negative miles per hour).

Jocelyn stared in horror as the turtles moved towards Jeremiah one inch at at time. Their tiny jaws snapping in unison creating a...

Jocelyn stared in horror as the turtles moved towards Jeremiah one inch at at time. Their tiny jaws snapping in unison creating a tribal rhythm beneath his hyperextended "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!"

Saliva began to pool in the back of Jocelyn's throat and her chin quivered. Her jaw, unfortunately did not have the same endurance that Jeremiah's lungs did, and it closed, temporarily depriving him of light. She turned away from the sinkhole to spit, and rally her strength. When she reopened her jaw, she looked down into Jeremiah's tortoise-shell hell and saw...

When she reopened her jaw, she looked down into Jeremiah's tortoise-shell hell and saw a hole open up in the floor of the sinkhole that look vaguely like an...an...or at least what she imagined an...an...to look like. (She was a nice girl, and found it difficult to say the word, even in the privacy of her own thoughts -- yuck!)

And then it spoke. "I am the Great Coccyx of the World" -- this being Buffalo, it was a natural location for it -- "and I have caused this sinkhole to open and unleashed my hellish tortoises upon thy miserable ass because thou brokest thy sacred coccyx repairman's oath never to..."

...thou brokest thy sacred coccyx repairman's oath never to leave a coccyx untouched!" The voice boomed on while the turtles kept on inching closer, "As a coccyx repair man, you Jeremiah, have sworn an oath to help anyone you encounter who suffers from Coccydynia and yet you walked away from this woman?!" Jeremiah stood frozen with fear from both the impending doom of the snapping turtles and of breaking his oath. What were the consequences for not helping someone? Where is that chapter in the manual? His mind was reeling. Running was out of the question. Without Jocelyn's teeth to guide him, he'd be helpless in the dark against the tutles. Panic began to ensue as the voice rambled on and the turtles continued their steady advance. Suddenly it struck him! Eureka! I could always...

"Oh, I know what this is about and I can explain it," Jeremiah interrupted. "A couple weeks ago, I get this call in the middle of the night from an Irish-sounding guy in a panic. He says his wife's ass is in pain and he didn't have any idea what to do. I get the guy calmed down long enough to give me directions to his home, throw on a CCR uniform shirt, a pair of khakis and my work boots, and head the service truck down I-90 towards Erie, PA. Two hours later, I arrive at a quaint white farm house to find a burly redheaded farmer waiting on his front porch. He said his name was John O' Reilly and he offerred a handshake. His rough hand was sweatty and trembled. I knew this was serious. I said, take me to your wife and I'll have a look at her ass. The confused farmer looked at me and said, "My wife is asleep in her room. Her ass is in barn with all of the other asses."

Judging by the looks of the farmer, examining his wife's backside didn't seem too appealing anyway. But I had driven nearly a hundred miles from Buffalo to Erie, and it was after 4 AM. And I wasn't leaving there without $500 minimum for an after-hours house call. I grabbed my medical case and headed to the barn. I knew right away which ass needed my help as I followed the sound of the painful moans down the dirt aisle to the last stall on the left. Arthritis. I could tell by the way the ass was favoring its right rear hip as it leaned its left side against the barn wall. I walked behind the ass as it gingerly stood upright. The sounds of the moans transformed from pain to relief as I gently massaged the right rear hip of the old ass. Just then the farmer opened the stall door and proceeded to go full-blown batshit! He grabs a pitchfork and lunges towards me. I dodge him, get the hell out of the barn and sprint to the truck. I lost the angry Irishman in a cloud of dust in my rearview about halfway down his long, dirt driveway.

I got home around 6 AM, took a quick shower and crashed on the sofa. The phone rang about 9 AM. It was Ira Greenburg, an attorney I'd met at an OHCRAP (Ohio Coccyx Repair and Proctology) Union meeting in Youngstown nearly ten years ago. NYCRAP and PACRAP, the unions in New York and Pennsylvania, had joined forces with OHCRAP to get better rates from our malpractice insurance providers. Ira said he knew about what had happenned and was on his way to Buffalo to meet with me. He said Mr. John O' Reilly had already filed a malpractice claim against me for taking indecent liberties with his wife's ass.

I swear to you, nothing happenned. I was simply massaging the ass when the farmer walked in. I'm sure once the facts are presented, my name will be cleared."

Then one of the turtles stood upright and squeaked, "That's a great story and all, but I think the big guy was talking about a different sacred oath. You swore when you got your coccyx repair certification that you would never, ever solicit business on federal property. That's a felony, pal. Wow, look at those blue lights up there. I bet the chick with the flourescent choppers called the feds. You'd better come with us."

A narrow passageway opened up at the back of the giant coccyx and.....,

Jeremiah was about to start yelling for help when a fetid and moist blast of wind nearly knocked him over.

"Oh my god," Jeremiah choked out. Woozy from the huge doses of methane, it was a struggle to look up toward Jocelyn's pearls of light, but she was gone. Which meant that so were her luminous little masticators, so where was the light coming from?

Repulsed but at the same time desperate to get away from the fetid stench, Jeremiah was forced to walk towards the light. Amazingly, the turtles parted before him, snapping their jaws shut and creating a path for him to follow the light. With every step, Jeremiah could swear the turtle were whispering, "He's heading right in? Doesn't he see what he's heading into?"

Determined to get out of the sink hole, he kept walking. With every step the light was brighter. But, with every step, the smell was worse. Indecision began to rack his brain. "What should I do? What should I do?" Jeremiah began to chant over the whispering turtles. "What should I do?"

"Stop."

Jeremiah whipped around to see who answered him, but instead he lost his balance and landed right on...