Hijack My Story Thread!

The Game Room
1

*This is a story thread, we’ve seen them before. It could be fantasy themed, or science fiction, romance, whatever. I want you to hijack it! Hijack the hell out of it. The less sense it makes the better. Murder the protagonist off quickly with some bizarre space monster if you like to, or take a more subtle approach, like diagnosing everyone with a terminal illness. Elect President Schwarzenegger and then have him veto a law making acid showers mandatory for everyone over the age of 65.

Do your worst… or best… I don’t know.*


Well, last night I finally mustered up the courage to ask a woman out for dinner. I did what any normal person does when they're going to ask someone out. I poured myself a tall glass of scotch and parked my butt in front of the computer. I surfed over to Eharmony.com and spent 4 hours carefully filling out this huge questionnaire that was all about me and what I wanted in a mate. And 4 hours after that, I received a message from **Sexy_thing_33**! The girl was beautiful! Her one photo was kinda blurry, but I could tell she was wearing a bikini at a beach! I'd really like to date someone who goes to the beach. I am really pale, and people often say I'm white as a ghost. Fucking assholes...Am I really that pale? Am I? Do they not realize I'm meant to be in fuckin' Ireland?!
2

When the four hours was up I looked at the clock. 8:30 p.m… Shows were starting on Broadway, sitcoms on television. Restaurant crews were cutting staff as the big dinner rush was usually over by now. Restaurants… Oh fuck, my dinner reservations were for seven o’clock. Oh well, guess the woman I asked out is pissed since I forgot to meet her, but I’ve got scotch and e-Harmony says I’m pretty much unmatchable anyway. In fact I have to use an IP cloaker and claim I’m a 56 year old welder from Jackson Heights just to use the thing they’ve blocked me so many times. I wonder if any of those 20s fad followers ever swallowed a goldfish while sitting on a pole, incidentally.

3

Well, I felt I should go to the restaurant anyway. **Sexy_thing_33 ** could be waiting with increasing anticipation. Perhaps she was still there alone at the corner table. Perhaps she might want me after all. Perhaps she is as sexy as the girl in my dreams. Perhaps she likes goldfish too…

And I would have gone had not the panda begun shrieking again. This time it was an awful squealing howl, more like a banshee than a giant bear.

I ran to the window. “Shut up, Yling -Ling! Shut up!” I cried. But she kept on thrashing against her cage and increasing that awful baleful whine.

That’s when the phone began to ring and I knew that once more the neighbors would be upset. Damn Mrs Welters and her sensative ears! Damn Mrs. Welters and her bikini. Damn.

Yling-Ling let out another awful freakish groan and I felt paler still.

4

There was nothing to do but put on the panda suit. It’s the only thing that calms Yling-Ling down when she’s having one of her fits. Stupid fucking panda. I never should have made that promise to my brother-in-law.

I dragged the panda suit of of the closet. It smelled like a wet dog. As I zipped myself into it I had a sinking feeling that the night was only going to get worse.

5

Remember, to avoid a situation like our Hero’s use only Dexter Guard[sup]TM[/sup] brand suit deodorant. When nothing less than atomic powered protection will do!

ETA: What’s more a hijack than a commercial?

6

“What do ya think, JB?” asked Reggie Stickwithers as he laid the carefully drawn advertising proposal down on JB’s mammoth oak desk. “And, ya see, later we show the guy having dinner with the sexy girl in the restaurant. He used the product and got the girl!”

JB did not look impressed.

Reggie continued: “Look, this ad’s got everything. Bikini -clad girls, cute animals, and its edgy what with the computers and all. I guarantee you the Dexter-Guard people are going to love it. All those characters down at Disney World are bound to switch to their product after seeing this!”

JB looked coldy at Stickwithers. Then he slowly pushed his large body over to the desk and with a demonstrative whoosh— he shoved the advertising papers off his wide desktop and onto the floor.

“Is this the best you can do? Panda suits? Good God man!”

JB pointed a pudgy finger at the cowering Mr. Stickwithers. “And don’t you realize those employees already feel bad about being pale from lack of sun while working inside the suits. No…you have to go and play on that angle! Bad decision…again.”

Reggie Smithers started to apologize, but was cut off by the blustery JB.

“I’m going off to the ribbon-cutting ceremony downstairs. When I get back up here, you’d better have another idea. Or you are fired!”

The ribbon -cutting ceremony! Smithers had forgotten all about that. He hurried to pick up the papers as JB stormed out the door. What would Melinda think now?

7

It was raining, a steady, persistant rain, a good for the crops sort of rain, a rhythm on the roof sort of rain. But Smithers’ office was over a mile away, and Melinda had neither car nor umbrella. She could hardly pick him up after work without transportation. And this was the night she was going to confess to him her affair with JB.

8

Melinda realized that she would have to confess tonight. The ribbon cutting ceremony was just the last straw. She had been dragged to wrist cutting ceremonies, throat cutting ceremonies, and even a circumcision. She wanted no more of the cutting.

Frantically, she dialed Diane’s number on her cell as she drove. Diane always had the words to make things right. Diane also had a car and a mullet. Diane hated cutting worse than anything.

“I cannot accept your call right now, but leave a message…”
“Dammit, Diane, I need you now. Give me the words that I can say to save the defenseless ribbon. If you don’t call back, I will tell Jack about you.”

SSG Schwartz

9

“Thank Og I have call display,” Diane thought as her cellphone rang. This time, it was Melinda, which was no surprise. Melinda called at the drop of a hat, for the dumbest things, and this one was no exception. “Defenceless ribbon”? If Melinda only used the brains Og gave her, she’d know all about the ribbon’s defences, and she’d know what to do.

Seeting with anger, Diane realized she had to address Melinda’s ignorance somehow. Dialing Melinda’s phone, she waited for Melinda to answer.

“Melinda? Diane. You don’t know Jack!”

10

“Sure I do,” countered Melinda, “He’s my brother-in-law. Tall guy, thinning hair… He’s the one who constructed the ribbbon in the first place”
Diane hid her exhasperation. Melinda had always been more than a few sandwiches short of a picnic, but some days she was even missing the basket.

11

Many years later, as she faced the firing squad, Melinda was to remember that distant afternoon when her father took her to discover lice.

12

High above the city, circling over the ribbon-cutting ceremony, Al Hoskins burped again, tasting gin. I really shouldn’t have had so much before I took this baby up, the helicopter pilot drunkenly thought. He inadvertently hit the ENGINE EMERGENCY SHUTDOWN switch, and the Bell JetRanger lurched once as the rotors spun to a halt before careening downwards. Whoopsie, Hoskins thought, smiling placidly as the ground rushed up to meet him. His last thought was mild amusement as the crowd scattered in panic, the ribbon-cutting now forgotten.

13

Obviously Melinda was crazy. Diane thought to herself, first ribbons, then lice. Why did she even put up with her? Oh right, it was the hot lesbian sex.

14

Horton, Pete, Charlie the Screw, and Sam had arrived nearly an hour ago to prepare for the ribbon cutting ceremony. They were to set up a most marvelous display – a huge rubber sheet embossed with the likeness of Gilbert Godfried. Wanting to make sure that it was unfolded correctly, they each grabbed a corner and stretched it out. Horton was pleased with his handiwork.

“A more rubbery likeness of Gilbert Godfried this crowd has never seen!”, he ejaculated.

Just then, a helicopter fell from the sky, bounced off of the rubber sheet, and flew back into the sky.

“WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!?”, exclaimed Charlie the Screw.

“Dunno”, said Sam. “I’m hungry. Anyone up for blood sausage?”

All four of them turned to a small restaurant/auto parts store across the street, Professor Wang’s Blood Sausage and Auto Parts Emporium.

“Yeah, I could go for a bite”, said Pete.

15

As the four sat down at a table and picked up their menus, a camera crew and a beefy guy with spiked white hair, wearing a hawaian shirt and his sunglasses on the back of his head trundled into to the establishment and headed toward the kitchen.

16

Von Ribbentrop smiled wearily. While the helicopter crash had cast a pall on the proceedings, the ceremony marked the concludion of long and exhausting negotiations. At least the treaty with Stalin had been signed, and the eastern front was safe. The Fuhrer must certainly reward him with the office vice chancellor now.

17

Nurse Guano looked over at the old German man staring out the window. She’d heard the sound of the helicopter crash and could only imagine what was going on inside the head of her dementia patient.

18

But then, suddenly she noticed the stigmata…

Regards,
Shodan

19

Meanwhile, Reggie and Melinda are in the worlds worst Starbucks. It’s got one Mr. Coffee pot, and two beanbag chairs on a bare cement floor. There’s a vending machine with stale pastries. Still, it’s there favorite place, they met there.

“I have something to confess.” they blurted out together into the uncomfortable silence that settled after they got their coffees.

After a tangled minuette of “Whats” and “you firsts”, Melinda said “I’ve had an affair.”

“I know about Dianne, we decided that doesn’t count, because she’s not a man.”

“I mean with a man.” “Someone you don’t know.”

Reggie takes this as well as Urkle would take a .45 slug to the chest.

“oh.” He sinks into beanbag, the coffee trembles in his lap.

“But nothing happened.” I tried, I went on the internet. I posted my best bikini picture."

“I took that picture.”

Despair turns to rage, but his early conditioning as a trapeeze artist and knife thrower stays his hand from flying out at her. It sublimates into his crushing his cup, sending scalding hot coffee over his hand and into his crotch. So deep is his rage he doesn’t notice.

Melanie quickly rattles off, “But nothing happened, the jerk left me waiting in a restaurant for hours.” Then he shows up, unshaven, in his pajamas, but reeking of cheap cologne, just as I’m leaving the restaurant. What’s your confession?"

Reggie’s despair downshifts, as he recalls his newly unemployed status, and the charges that are likely to be pressed for his ‘resignation’.

He gradually becomes aware of the second degree burns in his crotch.

20

As Reggie starts to wail in pain, the door of the faux Starbucks opens up and in walks that whitehaired guy and his camera crew.
“This place is money!” he shouts, and starts sticking his nose into everything and sniffing audiably