Search Results for 'becky'

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  • #6024

    In reply to: Story Bored

    FloveFlove
    Participant

    Story Bored 8

    one

    Liz was waxing hysterical to her publisher. “I tell you, Bronkel, you complain of the loose threads wandering into nothingness, the deranged and meaningless story lines … turns out it isn’t a personality flaw; it’s those lonely vacations in the desert where I was forced to be the boy my mother always wanted.” 

    two

    (plagiarised)

    “Oh that’s a fantastic idea Becky!” encouraged Tina (anxious to divert attention from the fact her egg shampoo had turned her own hair green) when Becky suggested tentatively that perhaps she could try Al’s advanced visualisation techniques to turn this disastrous start to her wedding day around.

    “Yes, imagine it as you would like it to be, no matter how unrealistic it may seem. Imagine looking in the mirror and seeing your skin glowing like a glowing diamond. After all, you have nothing to lose Becky-pooh.”

    three

    Tifikijoo Island has been a casualty of rising sea levels. The question is, who is seeking to repopulate the island with giant spiders?

    #6020

    In reply to: Story Bored

    EricEric
    Keymaster

    BOARD 9

    Board 9, Story 1

    Granola is getting distracted by the shrooms Ailill’s seated on, while he’s waxing wisdom about the merits of transfocal projecting.

    Becky didn’t plan on the group of Italians boarding her gondola while she was trying to escape Sean and her miserable marital bonds.

    Madame Chesterhope gets ready for her favorite sport: transdimensional puddle crossing in her refurbished bike. New worlds await!

    #6019

    In reply to: Story Bored

    TracyTracy
    Participant

    Board 8, Story 2

    Margit, the maudlin woman on the beach, was clearly the mad doctors mother. The old snapshot Aunt Idle found of the boy Brynjúlfursdóttir a.k.a. Bronklehampton proved that he was indulging in strange experiments even as a young child.

    Becky regretted marrying Sean but was glad she kept the wedding presents, especially that YouDo doll.  Who knew what that YouDo doll was capable of at the time, but it’s ability to teleport items during the quarantine was proving extremely useful.

    Sam wasn’t impressed with the  Spider Amusement Park.  “It may have a spider, but it’s not much of a park and certainly doesn’t look very amusing,” he said while perusing the holiday brochures.

    #5991

    In reply to: Story Bored

    TracyTracy
    Participant

    Board 5, Story 2

    Liz was not amused to find Leörmn had been drinking on the job again. The Indogo had turned an alarming shade of pink, and Leörmn was responsible.

    Al tried to look enthusiastic about the donuts in the Droles de Dames cafe in Le Touquet~Pu, but Becky wasn’t fooled.

    “Were not alone,” whispered Eleri. “Pass me that bowler hat, Margoritt, there’s not a moment to lose. A particular kind of magic is called for but don’t ask me to explain, just pass me the hat!”

    #5989

    In reply to: Story Bored

    AvatarJib
    Participant

    BOARD 5

    Board 5, Story 1

    Sadie: Linda Paul we have a loo-tle problem, I found Sanso in the time sewers with a pink flamingo. I fear Lazuli Galore’s on the loose.

    Becky: Tonight our special guest in his shiny armor, the great philoosopher Lemone, will tell us more about the red doonut and its effect on the brain chemystery.

    Detective Walter Melon: Don’t look back. I think there’s a bear following us. That certainly explains why the easter bunnies won’t talk to us about what happened at Liz’s manor.

    #5978

    In reply to: Story Bored

    TracyTracy
    Participant

    Board 4, Story 2

    “I told those teleporters not to trust the TPS, now look where they’ve landed Belen!” Pseu was not happy with the Inner landscape design team, either.

    Adeline: : “Ees zat racquet of yours plastic? Can I ‘ave eet for my collage?”

    Gayesh, please! This is our bedroom, not the clone surgery.” Becky was appalled.

    #5977

    In reply to: Story Bored

    EricEric
    Keymaster

    BOARD 4

    Board 4, Story 1

    The Whale is looking for Godfrey.
    Liz: “Roberto, Finnley! What have you done with Godfrey?”
    Becky: “Aaaah! Don’t tell me it’s Godfrey!”

    #5975

    In reply to: Story Bored

    TracyTracy
    Participant

    Board 2, Story 2

    Lucinda,  worried about what Maeve would think when she found that the magic parrot had turned Fabio into a unicorn, prayed to the blue diamond. The doll behind her kept interrupting.

    Becky was having a strong word with the dragon about turning up in green wearing a waistcoat when she’d specifically ordered a sand dragon, and failed to notice the fox.

    Roberto decided it was time to talk to Godfrey about his piglets, after finding one of them hobnobbing with a suspicious looking character from another story.

    #4688
    EricEric
    Keymaster

    “It is a rather peculiar mystery indeed, don’t you think.” Liz leaned suggestively towards the Inspector. He had insisted to keep his trench-coat on, which for some reason she was finding incredibly alluring. It reminded her of all the fun she had in the past, playing her favourite character, Becky in tarty nun’s outfit. She made a mental note for the next costumed party.

    “Some peanuts, Inspector?”
    “Good gracious, no. I’m terribly allergic to nuts, but I’m partial to your delicious canapés.”

    Luckily for him, he couldn’t see Finnley overlooking behind the velvet curtains and the paneled walls, glaring at Liz for taking the credit of her cooking.

    After a mouthful of tarragon cod pâté with capers, Walter leaned back and a little further from Liz and said “Mmm, delicious. Well, it is indeed quite a good mystery you’ve chosen to write about. All these keys, I love the idea. It sounds out of a spy novel, but I do wonder what are the connections, you see, in most crimes I’ve solved in the past,” he cleared his throat, taking the glass of red wine Finnley had just brought “there is always a good chance the culprit is closer than you know. The skill is always to find the hidden connection.”

    “Aaah. I’m so glad you’re saying that Walter, I was telling them the same no later than this morning!”
    She took a random ramekin from the coffee table “some peanuts?”.

    #4123
    TracyTracy
    Participant

    Corrie’s findings from elsewhere:

    “Mike wasn’t as courageous as his former self, the Baron. That new name had a cowardly undertone which wasn’t as enticing to craze and bravery as “The Baron”.

    The idea of the looming limbo which had swallowed the man whole, and having to care for a little girl who surely shouldn’t be out there on her own at such an early hour of the day spelt in unequivocal letters “T-R-O-U-B-B-L-E” — ah, and that he was barely literate wasn’t an improvement on the character either.

    Mike didn’t want to think to much. He could remember a past, maybe even a future, and be bound by them. As well, he probably had a family, and the mere though of it would be enough to conjure up a boring wife named Tina, and six or seven… he had to stop now. Self introspection wasn’t good for him, he would get lost in it in quicker and surer ways than if he’d run into that Limbo.

    “Let me tell you something… Prune?… Prune is it?”
    “I stop you right there, mister, we don’t have time for the “shouldn’t be here on your own” talk, there is a man to catch, and maybe more where he hides.”

    “Little girl, this is not my battle, I know a lost cause when I see one. You look exhausted, and I told my wife I would be back with her bloody croissants before she wakes up. You can’t imagine the dragon she becomes if she doesn’t get her croissants and coffee when she wakes up. My pick-up is over there, I can offer you a lift.”

    Prune made a frown and a annoyed pout. At her age, she surely should know better than pout. The thought of the dragon-wife made her smile though, she sounded just like Mater when she was out of vegemite and toasts.

    Prune started to have a sense of when characters appearing in her life were just plot devices conjured out of thin air. Mike had potential, but somehow had just folded back into a self-imposed routine, and had become just a part of the story background. She’d better let him go until just finds a real character. She could start by doing a stake-out next to the strange glowing building near the frontier.

    “It’s OK mister, you go back to your wife, I’ll wait a little longer at the border. Something tells me this story just got started.”

    ~~~

    Aunt Idle was craving for sweets again. She tip toed in the kitchen, she didn’t want to hear another lecture from Mater. It only took time from her indulging in her attachments. Her new yogiguru Togurt had told the flockus group that they had to indulge more. And she was determined to do so.
    The kitchen was empty. A draft of cold air brushed her neck, or was it her neck brushing against the tiny molecules of R. She cackled inwardly, which almost made her choke on her breath. That was surely a strange experience, choking on something without substance. A first for her, if you know what I mean.

    The shelves were closed with simple locks. She snorted. Mater would need more than that to put a stop to Idle’s cravings. She had watched a video on Wootube recently about how to unlock a lock. She would need pins. She rummaged through her dreadlocks, she was sure she had forgotten one or two in there when she began to forge the dreads. Very practicle for smuggling things.

    It took her longer than she had thought, only increasing her craving for sweets.
    There was only one jar. Certainly honey. Idle took the jar and turned it to see the sticker. It was written Termite Honey, Becky’s Farm in Mater’s ornate writing. Idle opened the jar. Essence of sweetness reached her nose and made her drool. She plunged her fingers into the white thick substance.”

    ~~~

    “But wait! What is this?

    Her greedy fingers had located something unexpected; something dense and uncompromising was lurking in her precious nectar. Carefully, she explored the edges of the object with her finger tips and then tugged. The object obligingly emerged, a gooey gelatinous blob.

    Dido sponged off the honey allowing it to plunk on to the table top. It did not occur to her to clean it up. Indeed, she felt a wave of defiant pleasure.

    The ants will love that, although I guess Mater won’t be so thrilled. Fussy old bat.
    She licked her fingers then transferred her attention back to the job at hand. After a moment of indecision whilst her slightly disordered mind flicked through various possibilities, she managed to identify the object as a small plastic package secured with tape. Excited, and her ravenous hunger cravings temporarily stilled in the thrill of the moment, she began to pick at the edges of the tape.

    Cocooned Inside the plastic was a piece of paper folded multiple times. Released from its plicature, the wrinkled and dog-eared paper revealed the following type written words:

    food self herself next face write water truth religious behind mince salt words soon yourself hope nature keep wrong wonder noticed.”

    ~~~

    ““What a load of rubbish!” Idle exclaimed, disappointed that it wasn’t a more poetic message. She screwed up the scrap of crumpled paper, rolled it in the honey on the table, and threw it at the ceiling. It stuck, in the same way that cooked spaghetti sticks to the ceiling when you throw it to see if it’s done. She refocused on the honey and her hunger for sweetness, and sank her fingers back into the jar.”

    ~~~

    “The paper fell from the ceiling on to Dido’s head. She was too busy stuffing herself full of honey to notice. In fact it was days before anyone noticed.”

    ~~~

    “The honeyed ball of words had dislodged numerous strands of dried spaghetti, which nestled amongst Aunt Idle’s dreadlocks rather attractively, with the paper ball looking like a little hair bun.”

    ~~~

    ““Oh my god …. gross!“ cackled the cautacious Cackler.”

    ~~~

    ““Right, that does it! I’m moving the whole family back to the right story!” said Aunt Idle, invigorated and emboldened with the sweet energy of the honey. “Bloody cackling nonsense!””

    #3949
    AvatarJib
    Participant

    Aunt Idle was craving for sweets again. She tip toed in the kitchen, she didn’t want to hear another lecture from Mater. It only took time from her indulging in her attachments. Her new yogiguru Togurt had told the flockus group that they had to indulge more. And she was determined to do so.
    The kitchen was empty. A draft of cold air brushed her neck, or was it her neck brushing against the tiny molecules of R. She cackled inwardly, which almost made her choke on her breath. That was surely a strange experience, choking on something without substance. A first for her, if you know what I mean.

    The shelves were closed with simple locks. She snorted. Mater would need more than that to put a stop to Idle’s cravings. She had watched a video on Wootube recently about how to unlock a lock. She would need pins. She rummaged through her dreadlocks, she was sure she had forgotten one or two in there when she began to forge the dreads. Very practicle for smuggling things.

    It took her longer than she had thought, only increasing her craving for sweets.
    There was only one jar. Certainly honey. Idle took the jar and turned it to see the sticker. It was written Termite Honey, Becky’s Farm in Mater’s ornate writing. Idle opened the jar. Essence of sweetness reached her nose and made her drool. She plunged her fingers into the white thick substance.

    #3868
    TracyTracy
    Participant

    Becky sat looking at the key in her hand long after the others had gone to bed, her mind going over seemingly disjointed images and random memories, trying to piece them all together. Why had Dory sent her, Becky, the key to the detention camp? She wasn’t expected to fly to the island and physically release the detainee’s surely? Should she send it to someone in the area? But who? Or was it more symbolic? But symbolic of what, exactly?

    Was it connected to the Imagination Wave? It surely must be, she thought. It must be connected to the surge of story character refugees, looking for a new story.

    Becky sighed. There had been such a dearth of imagination during the previous waves that literally countless story refugees had been rounded up and detained, with no new stories available anywhere on the planet. Of course this wasn’t actually true: there were always countless new stories to be told, but the lack of imagination, the sheer lack of will to tell them, had brought the global situation to a dreadful impasse.

    We could write them all out of the stories with a rat tat tat of the keyboards, she mused, and immediately cringed at the idea. Any fool can destroy in seconds. Destruction isn’t power, creation is.

    Was it a coincidence that the leader of the old story where most of the characters were fleeing from, had the same name as that alien that kept promising to land, but never actually did?

    Shaking her head, Becky wondered, not for the first time, if the world population can’t handle a few displaced story characters, what in Glods name would be the reaction to a load of aliens? Still clutching the blue key, Becky went to bed. She would discuss it with the others in the morning.

    #3864
    AvatarJib
    Participant

    “The key comes from a certain Dory”, said Becky with a puzzled look. “Does anyone know a Dory ? I don’t.”
    “Have you been taking sleep pills again?” asked Tina in the brink of an eyeroll.
    “Not at all”, said Becky briskly, bringing the letter and the key close to her chest. “I just don’t remember. It seems so far away.”
    “It looks like a locker key, or maybe a safe key.” said Sam. “Look, there is a little monkey carved on it, and a number.” he said pointing at it.
    Becky and Tina looked more closely.
    “1495”, said Becky.
    “Year 1495 (MCDXCV) was a common year starting on Thursday”, said Al. He was trying to solve a puzzle based on chaotic randomness theory and the evolution of the electromagnetic flux of sunspots in real time.
    “There’s a little card with it.” Tina was holding a small square rigid paper with a name on it. “It’s written Tikfijikoo Island.”
    “I remember the name”, said Sam, “I think it’s that place where they are building the Spider Amusement Park, or SAP.”

    #3855
    TracyTracy
    Participant

    I wonder if these constitute even more new characters, Blecky wondered. I will keep that worrying thought to myself, she decided. On the plositive slide though, Blecky didn’t have a whole passel of slot nosed blats like poor Becky.

    #3851
    TracyTracy
    Participant

    Becky snorted, and then wiped the coffee off her keyboard.

    “Flocused flenergy, are you fluckling kiddling me?”

    #3850
    FloveFlove
    Participant

    “Whose fault is it?” asked Becky quietly, subdued by Tina’s air of authoritative wisdom.

    #3847
    TracyTracy
    Participant

    Flanella decided to give Glustave the slip. He was welcome to Blea and Clonsuela, she had her eye on Iglor and Bloris.

    “That’s your flucking flault, Lal” Becky said tartly.

    #3846
    TracyTracy
    Participant

    “Are you alright, Tina dear?” asked Becky kindly. First she sounded serious and quiet, the next moment seemingly on the verge of hysteria, what was the matter with her?

    “Rules won’t help much during the Imagination Wave, you know. This is all out chaos, I’m telling you! I didn’t want to think about it, but now that I am, I am wondering if all these displaced and irate characters are going to be following any rules? Hah!” she cackled wildly, more rattled herself than she was willing to admit.

    #3842
    TracyTracy
    Participant

    Fanella had been secretly watching Gustave at the bar with his entourage of old slappers, hiding herself behind a potted palm. She was biding her time, and building up her courage for a confrontation with a stiff martini, when the door opened and a crowd of handsome Russian men walked into the bar.

    “Oh my god, Tina!” Becky shouted in alarm when she read the latest entry. “Not only do we have characters to worry about, the bloody characters have been creating rafts of refugee characters of their own! Where will it all end?”

    “It will never end, Becky,” Tina replied in a serious quiet voice. “It will just circle back, again and again.”

    “Well, at least this lot are all handsome,” Al interjected, with a mischievous grin.

    #3840
    TracyTracy
    Participant

    Al’s gone too far this time, TinaBecky said, perusing the latest installment of the Reality Play. “He’s just adding old characters willy nilly now!”

    Tina just looked at Becky for a moment before replying quietly, “Isn’t that the point?”

    Gripping Tina’s shoulder firmly and giving her a little shake, Becky continued, “It’s getting serious, Tina, can’t you see the danger we’re in? Fictional characters are coming to life all over the planet, demanding birth certificates and passports and refugee status. Insisting on continuation, more detailed back stories; some are even demanding therapy for what the authors have put them through!”

    Tina looked shocked. “Is it really as serious as that?” she asked. “I had heard about it, but, well, I didn’t like to think too much about it…” her voice trailed off, hoping that Becky would drop the subject so she didn’t have to think about it any more.

    “It’s the Imagination Wave, Tina. We’ve never really understood Imagination or how to use it. During this wave, we’re going to find out, and it’s going to be messy, believe me! It’s not just the characters we’ve made up, it’s the land mass. Characters are looking for their lands, demanding compensation for missing islands…”

    “What are we going to do?” Tina whispered dramatically. “We’ve been churning out characters and littering changed landscapes with them and then just leaving them stranded, for nine years!”

    “And we can’t even get away from them all if we flew to Mars, either,” added Al, who had been eavesdropping from behind the door. He joined them and pulled up a chair. “Seriously, girls, we need a plan. This is our most important mission of all.”

    “Should we kill them all off?” asked Becky, wincing as she said it. “I didn’t mean that!” she added hastily.

    “Oh, you don’t want to do that!” Al replied quickly. “Some authors have done that and have been haunted by dead characters something awful! Dead characters are a worse nightmare than characters coming to life, believe me!”

    “Well I didn’t really mean it,” Becky said sheepishly.

    “Let’s ask Sam,” said Tina.

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