Exquisite Corpse

[Blue Monkey]

Ground Rules:

1) Write something. Creative. Create some fertile ground.

2) No more than 365 words. The title counts.

3) No commentary. Connection is okay. It's a thread, right? We should have to reflect on it to see what else in the thread sparked your creativity. And maybe the connection hasn't been posted yet.

4) One picture per 1000 words posted.

5) The management reserves the right.


EDIT: I forgot that in making an exquisite corpse you don't look at the previous work until you've added your own. I put the first three in spoilers. Please do the same for future entries.

 

[Blue Monkey]

Spoiler :

Man of High Degree

You forgot the heavily bearded old guy wearing overalls & not much else but some kind of shamanic mojo around his neck. The overalls are older than the beard and the mojo. Had to repair the brass a couple of times, but never the denim. The one who shepherds a pile full of junk that looks useless until you really need it. Some of it he inherited. Some just magically appeared in the middle of the night. Maybe it’s really not a pile. It’s a shed. But you can’t tell in the moonlight. The one who can fix anything. From a moribund Calypso bulbosa to a tweaked De Laval nozzle. The one who plays Zappa, but only the PoMo orchestral stuff. On a saxophone. That he built in his metal shop. The one who can get the best perfectos. They’re part of his unofficial 401K from that time he chased Che up and down rain-forested cliff-faces for half a year and never got a kill shot. He knows where the best lapsong souchong comes from because he helped to plant it when his friend Lhamo Thondup told him how to let the nightmares go. The one who’s grounded in a really weird way. Like maybe he's a gun-toting vegan. Or a Jain who tells dirty jokes. Or an old H.A. who feeds the jack rabbits all winter long. He says “Forget the wolves. Let ‘em chase down a politician.” But you’ll never see the tears he buries with every one of the predators that doesn’t make it across the interstate. The one who tells stories over and over, but different every time. The truest one is about how he escaped. From kindergarten. And never looked back. The one whose trailer is insulated with what he cherry-picks from The Strand & he's read them all (most of his marginalia is in the first edition Hammetts). He’s the one who can keep "Further" running long enough to get home from Woodstock. The only one. Everyone looks at him like he’s playing card tricks for a dog, but he’s only doing solitaire until the dog breaks her vow of silence.

 

[Perfection]

Spoiler :

The little engine that could not poop

There once was a little train engine. He tried to poop, however he could not poop!


Looking for help he went to the docks to see the tugboat.

He asked the tugboat, "I can not poop. what should I do?"

The tugboat said, "Take these fiber capsules" gave the little engine some fiber capsules.

The little engine took the capsules, but still he could not poop.


Still looking for help went to the helipad to see the helicopter.

He asked the helicopter, "I can not poop what should I do?"

The helicopter said, "Here take these laxatives" and gave the little engine some laxatives.

The little engine took the laxatives, but still he could not poop.


Continuing to look for help he went to the school to see the school bus.

He asked the school bus, "I can not poop what should I do?"

The school bus said, "Give yourself an enema" and gave the little engine a Walgreens Home Enema kit.

The little engine gave himself an enema, but still he could not poop.


Desperate for help, the little engine went all the way across town to the fire station to see the fire truck, the wisest of all vehicles.

He asked the fire truck, "I can not poop what should I do?"

The fire truck said, "Engines don't poop!"

And the little engine said, "but of course!"

And the little engine. and the fire truck, and the school bus, and the helicopter, and the tugboat all lived happily ever after, the end.

 

[useless]

Spoiler :

A scathing parody on Barrack Hussein Obama

"Sashimi!" Screamed the blatantly Caucasian male, with a blatantly non-Japanese haircut. Despite his non-Japanese ethnicity, he made it clear that not only was he a ninja, but he also originated from Japan. His name was Chipp, an overweight social well-fare whore with the intellectual capacity of an inbred rabies infected dog. He had aspirations of becoming "the" president, of course.

The nearby immigrant, from the rape-city that is Tokyo opened his mouth and words came out of it. Words of anger, hatred, dislike, loathing and general negativity towards this American up-start. Chipp listened with his ears. "I will become the president!" screamed Chipp, as his bloated lips flapped about spewing his bile across the airways. Chipp ignored the man's repeated disagreements with him and continued, "I will make everything okay!".

The immigrant listened, as Chipp began to shout out various Japanese words that would stereotypically be used by those who wanted to show others their knowledge of all things Japanese; Otakus. Chipp's clothes smelt of bodily fluids and the stench of cheap, mass produced food that is often accompanied by the smell of lingering urine. The immigrant was incredulous with rage.

Chipp continued to babble on, flapping his arms as if he was in some sort of autistic fit, a spasm of lies, half-truths, false stories about his true origins and how Samus Aran (Aka Darth Vader) actually did exist and only he could see him. The psychobabble continued, and whilst it did so the immigrant continued to grow more suicidal. It was only then, however, that the man discovered the curved blade, the curved blade of truth upon Chipp's wrist. His eyes glittered. It all made sense, this bloated man-child was Jesus.

Chipp smirked, as he continued blabbering on about anime and how it "meant something" whilst snorting some kind of grounded up sleeping tablets, they however had little effect on his manic speech. As this was happening, the immigrant's eyes continued to grow, and he smiled. He was in the presence of god. Chipp, failing to realise the man's mental breakdown continued. The immigrant suddenly caught a glimpse of the truth:

Barrack Obama is actually Kenyan.

 

[duckduckswan]

Spoiler :

We're torn between what to chose for desert. I narrow the choices down to two. Pointing at the Flan, "we can be adventurous...." before moving onto number two, an ice cream dish and quoting the menu: "..or we can have 'a Mexican favorite'."

She favors me with a mischievous smile. "Let's be adventurous."

A little while later our mystery dish arrives. Neither of us knew what to expect and what arrives looks like a Jello mold quivering under a sugary liquid. Being a gentleman I let her take the first bite. "I hope it's not Jelly, I hate Jelly." The moment of truth, "mmmmm, it's good!"

I dig in and find that Flan; whatever the it may be, is indeed delicious. We nibble around the green leaves garnishing the top until I begin to play hockey with it and my spoon. She picks it up and inspects the foliage.

"This is mint, dare me to eat it?" I immediately begin to chant "do it, do it."

She tears off piece of a leaf and gently places it in her mouth. Chews. Looks at me and says deadpan, "this is not Mint."

 

[classical_hero]

Is this a game?

 

[azzaman333]

Spoiler :

Trolls
Trolls are interesting creatures. Normally residing under bridges, occasionally they venture out into the real world and wreak havoc amongst the people. Every good troll enjoys such activity, for it displays an intrinsic truth about human nature. People are jerks.

fin

 

[Blue Monkey]

Is this a game?

Exquisite corpse.

 

[Huayna Capac357]

Do we just post non-sequiturs? Or do they have to do with the other posts?

 

[Heretic_Cata]

I was about to say that it's an exceptional experimental album: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Exquisite_Corpse_(Warpaint_album)

Thread does not deliver.

 

[Blue Monkey]

Do we just post non-sequiturs? Or do they have to do with the other posts?

I was about to say that it's an exceptional experimental album: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Exquisite_Corpse_(Warpaint_album)

Exquisite corpse.

The technique was used by, if not invented by, the Surrealists. A couple of years before the album, irrc.

Thread does not deliver.

Emphasis added:

Ground Rules:

1) Write something. Creative. Create some fertile ground.
...
3) No commentary. Connection is okay. It's a thread, right? We should have to reflect on it to see what else in the thread sparked your creativity. And maybe the connection hasn't been posted yet.
...

 

[Huayna Capac357]

I still don't quite get the rules. Could you please explain again? And FWIW (not much), Heretic_Cata said "Thread does not deliver," not me.

 

[Blue Monkey]

I still don't quite get the rules. Could you please explain again?

It's a sort of game. The result is a Surrealist text. Looking at the linked article helps. Each poster writes something, or once they've contributed 1000 words a picture is okay. Put it in a spoiler. The idea is not to read what has gone before until you have posted. The links between the posts are bizarre, and sometimes invisible. Making the connections as you read them is the fun. But it takes a certain creative flexibility to effectively participate. Or to enjoy the results.

 

[holy king]

frank always wanted to beat up a penguin. he bribed the zoo director. he beat up a penguin.
frank was very satisfied.