Thursday, May 22, 2008

Story Virus 2

First off let me start by saying that this is a follow-up post to the one directly beneath called Story Virus 1 oddly enough...

Just after Splotchy tagged me to participate in his Story Virus meme Randal tagged me to write the next part of his story after he had been tagged by a whole lot of others.

Here are the rules once again as written by the eloquent Splah:

Here's what I would like to do. I want to create a story that branches out in a variety of different, unexpected ways. I don't know how realistic it is, but that's what I'm aiming for. Hopefully, at least one thread of the story can make a decent number of hops before it dies out.

If you are one of the carriers of this story virus (i.e. you have been tagged and choose to contribute to it), you will have one responsibility, in addition to contributing your own piece of the story: you will have to tag at least one person that continues your story thread. So, say you tag five people. If four people decide to not participate, it's okay, as long as the fifth one does. And if all five participate, well that's five interesting threads the story spins off into.

Not a requirement, but something your readers would appreciate: to help people trace your own particular thread of the narrative, it will be helpful if you include links to the chapters preceding yours.

I had been shuffling around the house for a few hours and already felt tired. The doorbell rang. I opened the front door and saw a figure striding away from the house, quickly and purposefully. I looked down and saw a bulky envelope. I picked it up. The handwriting was smudged and cramped, and I could only make out a few words.(Splotchy)

Despite the throbbing pain in my knees and the dull ache in my lower back, I bent down slowly and picked up the envelope...

Oh no. It did not say this, did it?

Oh yes, it did. It did.

The handwriting was familiar in a way that inspired a cold sweat and a bout of nausea. It was the penmanship of my former husband. You know - the one that was presumed dead.

He disappeared in a suspicious blogging related accident a number of years ago and was never heard from again. I was devastated. I had hated the blog, loathed the thing. What began as a hobby that took but a few minutes a day had morphed into an addiction, the proportions of which could not be measured. It was pure evil.

The blog turned into a cruel and demanding mistress and her siren song was more than I could compete with. One day he left for an evening event, never to return again.

All fingers pointed to one blogger, but I could never get the charges to stick. That one is slick- slick, slick, slick. He can talk a good game and write like nobody's business. But there is something about him, it just is not right.

So my husband was gone, that other one kept blogging and I had to rebuild my life, which I did.

So I finally had the bastard declared dead. And now this.

I took the envelope inside and got out a magnifying glass. I studied the scribblings on the front and made out the words “This is for you. You KNOW why” just above the undead bastard’s name. What the hell?

What could it be? What did he mean, I “KNOW” why? What did I do? I had never been anything but faithful to him and his "interests." I followed his stupid blog as it meandered through the vapid expanses of his small mind, trying my best to be polite when he talked about some comment he’d gotten on a particular post, or a funny link he’d dropped into a post.

Just thinking about it made my stomach hurt.

Despite a fleeting fear that there might be anthrax powder in the envelope, I opened it and pulled out the contents.

A noodle, a meatball and one of the six legs of a squid? (Squid have six legs, not eight, right? Unsure I rushed to my computer to ask The Lord Google. OMG, I was wrong! Squid do have eight legs. And two tentacles. Like cuttlefish. I digress. Damn you Google!)

What was he working on when he had that blogging accident? I thought back to the nights of feverish typing. The nights the keyboard fairly reeked of despair, flopsweat and ricola. He would babble "vision quest" "noodly appendage" "the alpha and the semolina" "green sticky spawn of the stars". This last I just attributed to far too much interest in the pussy photos of Britney Spears.

In shaky handwriting was the couplet:

That is not dead which can eternal lie.
And with strange æons even death may die

I felt that I was beginning to understand. He had been killed in

an epic battle of Good versus Not-So-Good or even "meh!" (Jess Wundrun)

Feeling the need for sleep, I turned off the computer, flicked the lightswitch and headed up through the pitch to bed, where, within minutes, I was floating in the blissful land of Nod.

Rudely interrupted by the nocturne call of nature -- you know, a can of Schlitz in the fridge -- I stumbled down the stairs, not into the ground floor of our house, but into a heretofore unknown level of hell.

My Flying Spaghetti Monster, the stench!

I had forgotten to dispose of the noodle, meatball and squid leg. Yes, that had to be the reason for such a nauseating, putrescent odor. Holding my nose, I turned the corner into the den. The computer desk was empty, save for a translucent, vaguely green goo that had slid onto the floor, inexplicably forming what seemed to be the tracks of an inhuman, shambling beast.

My eyes followed their path. It led into the kitchen.

and now my addition:
There was an palpable eerie feeling that seemed to be spreading across the room from the kitchen. I wanted to turn around and run, to escape this house, this life, the noodle, the meatball and the squid leg but something deep inside of my gut wouldn't let me. If I couldn't run then I had to know what was in the kitchen. An eternity rushed past in a split second as I walked into the kitchen and through another puddle of the green goo I had seen at the computer desk. Damn I wish I had remembered to put my slippers on before I came down here.

The kitchen was dark and the stench of rotting flesh was everywhere. I wanted to throw up but I was too scared to move. There was something here, a shape moving in the dark that I could not quite make out...suddenly my refrigerator door started opening and the light was slowly revealing a frightening, massive tentacled creature. Words could not describe the horror I was feeling at that very second, my life was flashing before my eyes at a million miles an hour, this was the end I knew it, I would be killed by the giant tentacled my refrigerator? What?

The creature turned to me and shook his head. "Now seriously," he said in a voice that would chill ice "Schlitz? Who in their right mind drinks Schlitz?"

And that is where I will stop and let the tagees below continue! Again do not feel obligated but we want to keep the story going as long as we can so if you feel up to it keep the virus going!



Steve said...

i think splotchy has created the greatest meme of all time!

Unknown said...

I think your strains are turning out better than the one I got.

Randal Graves said...

Heh heh heh. Everyone knows that Yog-Sothoth loves Old Milwaukee!

Becca said...

Too true! Couldn't agre more!

Hmmm I'll have to drop by and check out your strain!

LOL!!!! I went to the Old Milwaukee brewery as a kid. Couldn't go in...cause I was a kid but I remember having to wait in the car and it just smelled so horrible! I'll never forget that smell. Maybe that's why I've never been a big beer drinker.

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