2011 Short Story Competition Final

I actually think that the system here is pretty fair considering it is a small contest; and if I had entered a story, I would definitly vote for myself. I think people vote according to personal tastes. I read some of the more popular stories when they first came out, they weren't to my taste. Some had flair, some had a bit of sex (which always sells...even here on litnet); but I didn't think they were well put together. I sometimes wonder what would happen if Shakespeare, Ayn Rand, and Stephen King entered on here.

And Jack, if you are all those personalities..shame on you:dupe::ciappa:

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Originally Posted by SilentMute

@Haunted--well that's a relief. I was actually worried when I read the story that you were considering offing yourself. However, I remembered when I was thirteen, I used to write poems about committing suicide. I was just venting and enjoyed the scenarios of everyone being sorry for driving me to such a desperate act. I never had any intention of doing it. ;)

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hell no, quite the contrary. I had some windows replaced and I was so mad the way it turned out, I was ready to kill someone. I started writing things down and then I said to myself, what if I weave a story into it, add some drama... Anyway no more stories from me.

I have a few poems about suicides too. Twice in my life I almost did. I like the option though. Sadly no one would be sorry if I were gone. So I'm going to stick around for a bit longer and annoy the hell out of them :D

@Haunted--oh, I wouldn't say that. I don't even know you, and I was initially traumatized until I remembered my teenage angst.

I gave my teachers and school counselors a good scare in my youth. What I could never figure out was why they were so worried about me when there were kids who were in gangs and such.

Are you saying my dumb story upset you? Is so I'm sorry. The end implies the character was saved. I don't read too much into stories people write as from their own personal life. Otherwise there will be a lot of psychotic sadistic killers on Litnet.

I think your school has done the right thing. Saving a good kid's life is more rewarding then trying to reform kids in gangs, they usually stay with the gangs anyway. But that would make a good story with a theme similar to Sophia's Choice.

Yeah, the school counselors had me traumatized about my daughters suicide stories; sneaking around trying to find her diaries, then trying to break the codes she used...

I can imagine the horror you must have felt, but it's a relief they took it so seriously. I read that an alarming high percentage of young people / teenagers contemplate suicide, but thankfully most don't carry it out or outgrow it.

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Originally Posted by MarkBastable

Is that 100 posts when they voted, or a 100 posts when voting closes?

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When the voting closes.

I would like to remind everyone that it is not against the competition rules to vote for one's own story and we should not pressure anyone to avoid this.

Four more votes to reach 50...

To quote Sancho (hardly ever advisable, do so at your own risk), this reader doesn't have a horse in this race and has never submitted to the contest.

That said, there's just something so... affirming about a self-vote. Validating, even. It's like nipping yourself on the chin and saying, "You can do it, buddy. You're good enough. You're smart enough. And, gosh darn it, people like you."

And there's something weird about voting against yourself. This reader can't articulate it- do you know that scene from The Seventh Seal where those people are walking around whipping themselves for being unclean and yelling out apologies? That kind of weird.







J

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Originally Posted by Jack of Hearts

To quote Sancho (hardly ever advisable, do so at your own risk), this reader doesn't have a horse in this race and has never submitted to the contest.

That said, there's just something so... affirming about a self-vote. Validating, even. It's like nipping yourself on the chin and saying, "You can do it, buddy. You're good enough. You're smart enough. And, gosh darn it, people like you."

And there's something weird about voting against yourself. This reader can't articulate it- do you know that scene from The Seventh Seal where those people are walking around whipping themselves for being unclean and yelling out apologies? That kind of weird.J

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Utter nonsense. If you are not sure of your story, don't screwball by posting it for competition. And if you are sure, vote for it.

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Originally Posted by Haunted

Sadly no one would be sorry if I were gone. :D

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Happily many more are glad that you are here!

Haha thanks cafolini. This reader, for just half a moment, got a tremendously surreal feeling about the world as he imagined himself setting off your nonsense alert.



J

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Originally Posted by Jack of Hearts

...this reader doesn't have a horse in this race and has never submitted to the contest.

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Okay... you've done it now...

(You know the drill. The following must be read out at a very quick pace indeed, and preferably after a good quantity of helium has been inhaled.)

It's Kim and Me leading Forever Young by a very short neck and coming up the rear is The Story of Remembering, The Story of Remembering closely followed by You Ooze, You Lose, but so far holding his own, as Playing the Piano is gaining ground going round the corner as we approach the final stretch. Kim and Me holding onto the lead as Forever Young is going off the rail, and The Story of Remembering just behind them looking to challenge the lead, but is he too far behind, KIM AND ME AND FOREVER YOUNG JUST TWO HUNDRED YARDS TO GO AS WE APPROACH NEW YEAR'S, and these two are DEFINITELY going for a photo finish, will it be Kim and Me or Forever Young, Kim and Me and Forever Young, Kim and Young and Forever Me, Me and Young and Forever Kim still head to head and --

(Ran out of helium.)

Merry Christmas to all :)

DH

Now that right there made El Sancho laugh out loud – albeit a high-pitched, rarified, squeal of a laugh.

Well, if Jack of Hearts really is 5 characters, then 5 of Kims votes are from him. I appreciate your honesty. To be honest, I have noticed that the folks on the other side of the pond always like their literature a bit complicated, dysfunctional and esoteric. I remember how disappointed I was when I went to England and took British literature and they assigned me all these people who had been banned, ran out of the country, etc...all I wanted was a bit of Shakespeare. Truthfully, I didn't get some of these stories either.

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Originally Posted by soundofmusic

Well, if Jack of Hearts really is 5 characters, then 5 of Kims votes are from him. I appreciate your honesty. To be honest, I have noticed that the folks on the other side of the pond always like their literature a bit complicated, dysfunctional and esoteric. I remember how disappointed I was when I went to England and took British literature and they assigned me all these people who had been banned, ran out of the country, etc...all I wanted was a bit of Shakespeare. Truthfully, I didn't get some of these stories either.

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Jack of Hearts definitely isn't Hillwalker. :eek2:

I'm not even sure it's possible to open multiple LitNet accounts under false identities.

As for esoterica - it's so much more rewarding when you have to have to think while you're reading a story or watching a film.

H

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Originally Posted by hillwalker

Jack of Hearts definitely isn't Hillwalker. :eek2:

I'm not even sure it's possible to open multiple LitNet accounts under false identities.

As for esoterica - it's so much more rewarding when you have to have to think while you're reading a story or watching a film.

H

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Well, while I enjoy stories that make me think, sometimes when I read I don't want to think. I'm already thinking about something that I want a reprieve from. Therefore, during these times, I enjoy a story that just takes me away and doesn't force me to use my intellectual faculties.

Anybody who can alternate between writing like each of those particular five posters is a way better writer than Jack of Hearts- and has an infinitely greater sense of satire.






J

That is a good point, Silent, we folks...at least down South, turn off the thoughts, turn down the lights, get some cocoa and a cookie to relax...When I was in England, folks were discussing politics while drinking lagger, discussing literature while drinking tea...I want to peak in their bedrooms and see if they discuss profound things sitting up in bed and drinking cocoa?

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Originally Posted by DocHeart

Okay... you've done it now...

(You know the drill. The following must be read out at a very quick pace indeed, and preferably after a good quantity of helium has been inhaled.)

It's Kim and Me leading Forever Young by a very short neck and coming up the rear is The Story of Remembering, The Story of Remembering closely followed by You Ooze, You Lose, but so far holding his own, as Playing the Piano is gaining ground going round the corner as we approach the final stretch. Kim and Me holding onto the lead as Forever Young is going off the rail, and The Story of Remembering just behind them looking to challenge the lead, but is he too far behind, KIM AND ME AND FOREVER YOUNG JUST TWO HUNDRED YARDS TO GO AS WE APPROACH NEW YEAR'S, and these two are DEFINITELY going for a photo finish, will it be Kim and Me or Forever Young, Kim and Me and Forever Young, Kim and Young and Forever Me, Me and Young and Forever Kim still head to head and --

(Ran out of helium.)

Merry Christmas to all :)

DH

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Haha, it must be Christmas to be getting one of these from DocLove.








J

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Originally Posted by soundofmusic

That is a good point, Silent, we folks...at least down South, turn off the thoughts, turn down the lights, get some cocoa and a cookie to relax...When I was in England, folks were discussing politics while drinking lagger, discussing literature while drinking tea...I want to peak in their bedrooms and see if they discuss profound things sitting up in bed and drinking cocoa?

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We can actually do both (not at the same time, obviously). That's what TV was invented for - switching off the brain and plugging into the dumbed-down universe of 'easy entertainment'.
And trust me, there's not a great deal of discussion goes on in the bedroom...! (other than the price of groceries, what colour flooring to get for the new kitchen and who to invite round for Christmas dinner...).:yawnb:

H

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Originally Posted by hillwalker

We can actually do both (not at the same time, obviously). That's what TV was invented for - switching off the brain and plugging into the dumbed-down universe of 'easy entertainment'.
And trust me, there's not a great deal of discussion goes on in the bedroom...! (other than the price of groceries, what colour flooring to get for the new kitchen and who to invite round for Christmas dinner...).:yawnb:

H

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Like every media, TV has an inmense variety of programs for every taste. Quality in spectacle is taste and what sells is quality. And the bedroom is what it is for anyone to choose the conversation they wish.

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Originally Posted by hillwalker

We can actually do both (not at the same time, obviously). That's what TV was invented for - switching off the brain and plugging into the dumbed-down universe of 'easy entertainment'.
And trust me, there's not a great deal of discussion goes on in the bedroom...! (other than the price of groceries, what colour flooring to get for the new kitchen and who to invite round for Christmas dinner...).:yawnb:

H

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Oh god, you need a change. Last few times I was in the bedroom with anyone, the only discussion was the price...:smilielol5::dupe::thumbsup::lol:

I can't improve on that one. And you're right, I do need a change!

H

Sounds! You shameless hussy!

Also, Feliz Navidad, mi amiga.

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Originally Posted by soundofmusic

Oh god, you need a change. Last few times I was in the bedroom with anyone, the only discussion was the price...:smilielol5::dupe::thumbsup::lol:

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How much did you eventually have to pay?

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Originally Posted by Emil Miller

How much did you eventually have to pay?

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Well, when she tallied the cost at the end of the relationship...I think it was around $10,000. Her car got damaged when the young man decided to drive it over a median strip, and then it got repossessed.

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Originally Posted by Emil Miller

How much did you eventually have to pay?

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Ah well, these things are what you call the "gift that keeps on taking"...But I think Silent is right: about 10,000 for 7 months of "night therapy", 10 years off my looks, 30 pounds of additional weight and several courses of antibiotics....:eek::leaving:

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Originally Posted by SilentMute

Well, when she tallied the cost at the end of the relationship...I think it was around $10,000. Her car got damaged when the young man decided to drive it over a median strip, and then it got repossessed.

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I've been borrowing money from my daughter ever since. :willy_nilly:

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Originally Posted by hillwalker

I can't improve on that one. And you're right, I do need a change!

H

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Hum, I'll send some one over. Lets see what we have in Florida: short and fat, old and thin, or gay and loving it...

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Originally Posted by Sancho

Sounds! You shameless hussy!

Also, Feliz Navidad, mi amiga.

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Did someone call me...Yep, I'm the only shameless hussy on this site. We are in need of some cookie humor here Sancho...:biggrinjester:

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Originally Posted by soundofmusic

Did someone call me...Yep, I'm the only shameless hussy on this site. We are in need of some cookie humor here Sancho...:biggrinjester:

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Sounds, ain’t that the truth. Our story collaboration was fun last winter.

Hmm…I’ll start us out anew:

In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth.

Yes, yes, yes, excellent start. Hmmm.

And it was a dark and stormy night.

Uhh, I donno. Okay, okay, okay:

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, and somewhere in La Mancha, in a place whose name I do not care to remember, a gentleman lived not long ago, one of those who has a lance and ancient shield on a shelf and keeps a skinny nag and a greyhound for racing, and it is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.

So. Call me Ishmael. Some years ago – never mind how long precisely – having little or no money in my purse, and nothing particular to interest me on shore, I thought I would sail about a little and see the watery part of the world. But. I am a sick man… I am a spiteful man. I am an unattractive man. I believe my liver is diseased. Yet. You don’t know about me, without you have read a book by the name of The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, but that ain’t no matter. That book was made by Mr. Mark Twain, and he told the truth, mainly.

Hmmm, I’d better start again:

The swift gray fox jumped over the lazy brown dog.

And that's just the way the cookie crumbles.

The puppy of the lazy brown dog took note and vowed, "The next time that fox goes sniffing around the hen house, I'm going to the owner. I'm going to say, "Boss man, it is time for Old Yeller to be put out to pasture."

All stories are expressive..... good job .One of the stories was..amaising .. I found myself lost reading it! How could such words take my mind! good style.

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Originally Posted by Zemouli Chahra

My story is not included in the competion but I would like to have comments on it...
Concerning Grammar, which aspects should I take into account, knowing that English is my third foreign language..
I'm in need to your comments friends...
Great Thanks

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Hi Zemouli, and welcome. It looks like your story has migrated over to the Short Story Sharing Thread. But I read it and I enjoyed it. I’ve got some ideas, but I need to put them into a coherent form and try to get them posted over there. I’m not guaranteeing I’ll ever get around to it, but I’ll try. I’m impressed that you wrote that story with English as a third language.

Ah, what the hey, I’m just going to post it here, because I’m on a roll, and occasionally the moderators will indulge El Sancho.

In a nutshell, you may consider rewriting it as a first-person narrative from the perspective of the young woman – a non-native speaker of English. Her voice would ring true, and a perceived weakness of the story (grammar) would now become a strength. It turns the tables on native English speakers who sometimes have difficultly writing from the point of view of a non-native English speaker, or even in the voice of an English-speaking character from a different region. A writer from New York writing in the voice of a character from rural Alabama is going to have to work very hard to convince me (I’m a Southerner). And if I were to try to write a first-person narrative from the perspective of a Scottish Highlands Sheep Herder, I predict I’d fail miserably – and Hillwalker wouldn’t buy it for a moment.

Much of the beauty in a language is in its nuance, and much of the nuance comes from the shared-experience of the people who speak it. I got to thinking about this a couple of weeks ago when I and a few of my co-workers were sitting around a table in a restaurant in Santiago, Chile. Most of us were native speakers of North American English, but we all had a little Spanish. One of the women was a native Spanish speaker from Puerto Rico, and one of the men was a local from Santiago. Well, the waiter came around to take our order, and I was feeling pretty proud of myself for ordering in Spanish. I understood everything he said to me and I think he understood everything I said to him. His interaction with the other Gringos at the table went similarly, but when he got to my Chilean compañero, lordy-lordy-lordy, those two started jabbering away in a rapid-fire South American Spanish that I could barely follow.

I leaned over to my Puerto Rican friend and said, “I didn’t get any of that.”

She said to me, “Me neither.”

I think another major challenge for a non-native speaker writing in the third person, is the genre. Short stories are tightly packed with no slow spots. Every sentence and almost every word is loaded. I’ll try to give a simplistic example: soundofmusic and I had a shared experience last winter creating a light-hearted little story where we went back and forth, and generally enjoyed ourselves. I’m not sure anybody else read it, but we sure had fun. A few days ago on this thread she prodded me to start another one, so I made a silly post where I strung together a bunch of first sentences from famous novels and threw in some other hackneyed stuff:

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Originally Posted by Sancho

The swift gray fox jumped over the lazy brown dog.

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It’s a nonsense sentence that a lot of people will recognize as typing exercise. More or less. The real sentence goes like this: “The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog.” You see, that sentence has all 26 letters of the alphabet in it, making it a good drill for touch-typing.

Anyway, for me it has always evoked an image of British aristocrats on white horses galloping through the wood on a fox hunt. But SilentMute came back with:

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Originally Posted by SilentMute

The puppy of the lazy brown dog took note and vowed, "The next time that fox goes sniffing around the hen house, I'm going to the owner. I'm going to say, "Boss man, it is time for Old Yeller to be put out to pasture."

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She threw me a change-up pitch.* Excellent! I can roll with that. I’ve seen Old Yeller – It made me cry. We’re switching from a fox-hunt story to a fox-in-the-hen-house story. (I never metaphor I didn’t like)

And here’s where I try to explain the shared-experience of language and how almost everything in it can be loaded. This has been a light-hearted, just-for-fun story, but it would be hugely inappropriate for me to come back with something like:

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And then the Red Roster strutted out from behind the barn and declared, “Old Yeller is going out to pasture. It’s been decided. It’s the final solution."

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Those seemingly innocuous words would unintentionally and immediately insult the 6 million Jews who died in the holocaust, and their loved ones.

So then, while I’m thinking of an appropriate come-back for the fox-in-the-hen-house story, here’s a little tune that gets at it better than I’ll ever be able to:

One night Farmer Brown was taking the air
Locked up the barn and with the greatest of care
Inside the hen house something stirred
When he hollered, “Who’s there?”
This is what he heard…

http://youtu.be/jmgaTPz63Bw

Asleep at the Wheel

It’s got a pretty cool sax solo too.


*That’s an American Baseball metaphor. A change-up pitch is where the pitcher makes the batter think he’s going to throw a fastball, but instead he throws an off-speed pitch, making the batter swing way out in front of the ball – STEEEE-RIKE, you outta there!

Come on, the Sanch. You all have four days to make this story happen.







J

I can work with it. Okay, I'll take the PC version.

One night Farmer Brown was taking the air
Locked up the barn and with the greatest of care
Inside the hen house something stirred
When he hollered, “Who’s there?”
This is what he heard…

"THERE AIN'T NOBODY HERE BUT US CHICKENS! GO TO BED, DAD...ER, I MEAN, FARMER BROWN!"

Farmer Brown's eyebrows furrowed, and he scratched his bald head. Then he scratched his beard, and then his arse. Finally, he said, "Okay."

For you see, years of inbreeding in the backwater states had left Farmer Brown's family with a road that didn't fork. As a result, none had more brains than a mosquito. When you are at such a disadvantaged, you don't tend to notice things are slightly amissed--like chickens can't talk, they can't play the sax, and despite some of your weird relationships with farm animals, the laws of Nature should prevent any of them from calling you "dad."

However, Nature does sometimes throw us a few wild cards. Nine months later, Fanny Brown--the farmer's daughter--was in bed, even though the rooster had crowed two hours ago. Mrs. Brown, the farmer's wife, muttered as she climbed the stairs, "Boy, dat girl is gettin lazier and lazier. No wonder she gettin so fat too! She look like she swallered a watermelon!"

She opened the bedroom door of the girl's room, and said, "Girl, get up--OH, MY LORD! WHAT THE DEVIL IS THAT THING?"

There was a little creature bawling in between the legs of Fanny Brown, who had suddenly lost quite a bit of baby weight...literally. It was an ugly baby, which was a tragedy, particularly since it was a little girl. It looked like it was part man, part bear, and part pig.

:cornut:

Oh Gosh, Sancho and Silent; I was sitting up with my night light in the barn, counting chickens and good looking winged singing cowboys in boots when I fell asleep and dreamed of peanut butter oatmeal cookies with chocolate chips...suddenly, the barn caught fire and we were wisked away to a fox hunt in England, headed by no one else than the wee fairy Queen beautifully attired in purple velvet and showing just the tiniest bit of ankle above her boot. Well, of course, all the English blokes followed her when the horn blew, 16 husky horses with fine horsemen, 35 hounds following one mangy fox. But there were a fair amount of Southern Americans at that hunt and we were much more interested in the little blond girl scout who was selling chocolate mints, coconut cookies and so on. We came off our horses faster than lightening, emptied our pockets and sat in the shade with our cookies and mint juleps. :cornut:

Whoa!

In a New York minute, no fewer than two-and-a-half million farmer’s-daughter jokes flashed across Sancho’s brain.

Well okay, I’m from one of the backwater States, so the New York minute went on for around an hour and a half. It was like a flashback from ‘Nam. Except I didn’t go to ‘Nam – I was still trying really hard to grow pubic hair back during the Vietnam conflict. I know, I know, TMI.

But anyway, it was like a flashback – from…Mmm…from…Umm…Hey I know, from Comedy Central. That’s it! I’ve watched too much of that station. Man-Bear-Pig? Mr. Gore? You’ve killed Kenny! You bastard!

As for the fox-in-the-henhouse story line, I can’t compete with Ray Benson and Asleep at Wheel’s Ain’t Nobody Here but Us Chickens (in that you-tube video, I fancied myself as the rooster, go figure). But since SilentMute went from a change-up pitch to a slider (very clever) and Sounds is throwing every pitch in the book at me, I figure we’re over to a farmer’s-daughter story now, so I have a short-fiction recommendation:

Try Flannery O’Connor’s Good Country People

Here’s a teaser:

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Every morning Mrs. Hopewell got up at seven o’clock and lit her gas heater and Joy’s. Joy was her daughter, a large blonde girl who had an artificial leg. Mrs. Hopewell thought of her as a child though she was thirty-two years old and highly educated.

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Joy winds up in the barn with a bible salesman, but it’s not what you’d expect.

I visited Flannery a couple of weeks ago. I was on my way home to Atlanta from Macon and decided to take a side trip through Milledgeville just to try to find her marker in the cemetery there. I did. She died too young; I’d like to see where her writing would’ve gone.

[QUOTE=Sancho;1101712]Whoa!

In a New York minute, no fewer than two-and-a-half million farmer’s-daughter jokes flashed across Sancho’s brain.

Well okay, I’m from one of the backwater States, so the New York minute went on for around an hour and a half. It was like a flashback from ‘Nam. Except I didn’t go to ‘Nam – I was still trying really hard to grow pubic hair back during the Vietnam conflict. I know, I know, TMI.

But anyway, it was like a flashback – from…Mmm…from…Umm…Hey I know, from Comedy Central. That’s it! I’ve watched too much of that station. Man-Bear-Pig? Mr. Gore? You’ve killed Kenny! You bastard!

As for the fox-in-the-henhouse story line, I can’t compete with Ray Benson and Asleep at Wheel’s Ain’t Nobody Here but Us Chickens (in that you-tube video, I fancied myself as the rooster, go figure). But since SilentMute went from a change-up pitch to a slider (very clever) and Sounds is throwing every pitch in the book at me, I figure we’re over to a farmer’s-daughter story now, so I have a short-fiction recommendation:

Try Flannery O’Connor’s Good Country People

Here’s a teaser:



Joy winds up in the barn with a bible salesman, but it’s not what you’d expect.

I visited Flannery a couple of weeks ago. I was on my way home to Atlanta from Macon and decided to take a side trip through Milledgeville just to try to find her marker in the cemetery there. I did. She died too young; I’d like to see where her writing would’ve gone.[/QUOTE)

Gosh, Sancho, is there a tv program or book you're not familiar with...this Florida Saltine can't keep up...Well, I guess this thread is about to close in two days and I have a half empty bottle of rum with my name on it for the new year...so see you next year. :smilielol5:

Silent is beginning to wonder if people are drinking a little early in celebration for the new year. :cheers2: She is totally confused. Are we starting early because we believe we're all going to die in 2012?

So....

The townspeople begin to suspect witchcraft is being practiced in their small town. Yes, even in this day and age, people believe in witches who have all the power in the world, but nothing better to do with it than annoy their neighbors. Are we so surprised? The nation's IQ is not much higher than the Browns with quality television spewing out shows like Jersey Shore. People believe we are all going to die next year because the Mayan calendar didn't go past 2012. Did it ever occur to anyone that maybe the Mayans thought a several thousand year calendar was good enough--and if they lived to the year 2012, they would just make another one?

Anyway, what was the point? Oh, yes. They believed there was a witch in their midst. One of their neighbors--the hussy--disappeared while counting chickens in her barn. She left her daughter behind with a sink full of dirty dishes and a house that was in need of repair, but at least the bills were paid for that month. There was no guarantee the bills would be paid next month, though, since the neighbor spent it all on girl scout cookies.

Then, of course, there was Fanny's ugly baby. Witchcraft could only explain that, they thought. So they looked in the Yellow Pages to find an exorcist, but because they didn't know how to spell it, they hired an exercise instructor. However, as it turns out, John-John Sanchez Buenapita had been a priest at one time. It seemed possible that not only could he get them in good shape and lower the cholesterol, he might be able to get rid of their witch.

Of course, when he arrived, there were some doubts. He exited his red sports car, wearing tight bicycle pants that revealed his buff bod. He had a superman cape on, and he was carrying a very resigned red cat who was wearing a Santa cap with a mouse dangling at the end of it. The cat looked like it just wanted to hang itself, though whether it was because its life was miserable, or it was mortified at being seen in such a ridiculous hat...I don't know.

The townspeople stared at John-John Sanchez Buenapita, and he stared back at them. His confidence was melting away under their scrutiny. His buff bod seemed to be getting scrawnier. The red cat in the stupid hat started squirming, hoping to make a break for it.

Suddenly, an old lady walked up to him. She was gasping for breath from the exertion of walking a few steps. Nana Bella never allowed the inconvenience of not being able to breathe slow her down. She just went on her way, carrying her three foot oxygen tank behind her.

"I remember you!" she finally wheezed, "I've seen you before!"

John-John Sanchez Buenapita looked at her nervously, which made the townspeople suspect he was guilty of some horrible crime. In truth, he didn't understand her. On top of not being able to breathe, Nana Bella had no teeth, and constant Botox injections had paralyzed one side of her face. To someone who was not accustomed to talking to her, she made as much sense as the Tasmanian Devil, and she spat just as much.

And then Sanch-O and Sound-O barreled into town in a beat-up 1974 Dodge Monaco with the muffler hanging, the radiator boiling over, and the shield from the Mount Prospect Police Department on the door poorly painted over. Mariachi music was pumping from the trunk-mounted subwoofers at an insane volume. The car skidded to a stop in the crowd of people and then commenced to do donuts with rubber squealing and gravel flying until the crowd was all sniffing and fetching like their heads was on fire and their arses was catching.

When the car finally came to a stop in a cloud of dust, Sound-O stumbled out with a half bottle of rum, a wild look in her eyes, and announced to no one in particular, “We started New Years a little early.”

Sanch-O meanwhile leaned against the front fender, cracked another cold one, and with a sense of slightly overdone nonchalance said, “Yup.”

Sanchez wandered over to Sanch-O and said, “Cousin, Que tal? New wheels?”

Sanch-O came back with, “Si, It's got a cop motor, a 440-cubic-inch plant. It's got cop tires, cop suspension, cop shocks. It's a model made before catalytic converters so it'll run good on regular gas. And by the way, cousin, what’s with the luchador get up?"

Sanchez said, “I got all dressed up to come into town to vote. We’ve got this contest going on, but it’s all tied up.”

Sanch-O said, “Well it looks like you’re headed for extra innings then.”

How to vote?what to do?

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Zemouli Chahra

How to vote?what to do?

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Go to the poll at the start of the page, then click on the title of the story you think is best.

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