It’s been quite some time since the “neverending story” thread ended, so I think it’s time to start a sequel. The rules are the same as the first one:
Everyone contributes a few sentences or a paragraph.
For continuity, use the last line of the last person’s addition as the first line of your addition.
If two people simulpost, the next person should try to work both posts into their addition.
Have fun!
OK,here goes…
It was a bright and sunny day (forget that “dark and stormy night” stuff). It was a beautiful July afternoon; hot but not humid, perfect weather for being outdoors. John, our guy from the first story, and Lilith, the former Satanic milkmaid from 17-Century Salem who somehow wound up in modern times, were having a barbecue in John’s backyard. Lilith was tossing the salad while John tended the grill. John was applying a thick coating of KC Masterpeice BBQ Sauce to the ribs when he realized that something was very wrong. He looked over to Lilith and saw that she was terror-stricken. Her lips were quivering and her eyes were the size of the paper plates on the table. He followed her gaze over to the neighbor’s yard, and saw…IT
Unfortunately for them no one was meant to know what IT might be. So they were promptly swamped by lawyers shoving non-disclosure agreements in their faces. Once they finally shot all the lawyers and disposed of their bodies, John saw what had terrified Lilth…
…John saw what had terrifed Lillith. There was a new Pontiac Aztec sitting in the neighbor’s driveway. Never before had she seen such an ugly car. “What were they thinking?” she said out loud.
“Beats me” replied John. Inching closer, he peered inside and was shocked even further by what he saw in the back seat. But, no sooner had he caught glimpse of what was inside, when smoke began billowing from his backyard.
“My ribs!” he exclaimed. He didn’t know whether to save the ribs or continue his investigation…
He didn’t know whether to save the ribs or continue his investigation… Until Lilith slapped some sense into him. “You go watch those ribs, investigating mysterious occurrences is woman’s work!”
She in turn approached the Pontiac Aztec, and saw what had fascinated him - the latest issue of Lowrider magazine, prominently figuring another blonde bimbo in high heels/bikini leaning over some automotive hideousness. John was in the doghouse for sure. “Are my luscious breasts not enough for you?” she demanded, and was about to reach for the spatula to give John a well-deserved spanking, when…
and was about to reach for the spatula to give John a well-deserved spanking, when…she remembered that she had used the spatula on his hiney lastnight and he had enjoyed it a little too much. She was about to turn and leave the Ugliest Car on the Planet when a voice stopped her. “Do you like my car?” She spun on her heel and spied the speaker. A young man, twentish, good looking in the over-fed 20th century way. He was standing at the entrance to the neighbor’s garage, leaning insolently against the wall, arms crossed, faint sneer on his lips. At his feet, Lilith noticed a rolled up carpet with some hair sticking out the top. “About the right size to hold an old lady,” she thought to herself.
“Actually I think it’s hidoeus. But I do enjoy Lowrider Magazine”
“Actually I think it’s hidoeus. But I do enjoy Lowrider Magazine” The man looked skeptical. “You’re just saying that to be polite, aren’t you?” “Actually, yes,” Lilith responded. “By the way, where are you going with that carpet?” At the mention of the rolled-up carpet, the man broke out into a nervous sweat. "Why, uh, I was just going to…
At the mention of the rolled-up carpet, the man broke out into a nervous sweat. “Why, uh, I was just going to…
show you my magic carpet. It flies, you know.”
With that in mind, Lilith looks around and notices that John is occupied with the ribs, and The Ugliest Car on the Planet has begun to ominously…
spontaneous-combust. Even the ugliest car on the planet knew its time here was short. No need to put off the inevitable.
After gazing momentarily at the welcomed fireball, Lilith turned her attention back to Lowrider-readin’-man.
“Magic carpet, huh? I’ll say it’s magic. It looks like you’re trying to make an old lady disappear. Gotta name mister?”
“Sure,” he replied. “My name’s Hannibal. But my friends call me ‘Han the Can’. Say, are those ribs ready? I was just on my way home to make dinner myself. In fact, I’ve got some extra ribs right here…”
At that point John returned. “Hey, can somebody give me a hand over here?”