Thursday, November 30, 2006

Story Thread

Please continue to write my story here. This is a simple instruction, I know you can do it.


Unknown said...

thanks for believing in us, dawg.hope you're having a good time.

i don't think anyone knows about this post, as it is mysteriously not on top. what did you do to the dates?

Unknown said...

let no one ever doubt i'm #1 (and #2)

Anonymous said...

i know about it! and i've linked to it from the SNARK. not that that'll do any good, but hey, ya never know! now if you'll excuse me, Miss "I'm #1 *and* #2"... i have to drink copious amounts of caffeine, so i can come back here and attempt to add to the delicious storyline you started up there, yesterday! xox

Charlene Amsden said...

Pia -- yes.

TLP said...

Hey guys. Don't make it so hard:
Goldennib started the story with:

"Since Doug has left us without any care as to how we feel, I think we should write a running story about what he is doing without us. I'll start and then each person can add to his adventures.

On December 1st 2006, Doug left on a trip to France. He drove to the airport, excited about his two week adventure. Unfortunately, he did not read the carryon rules very carefully and so security tagged him for a full body search.

Like Bridget Jones, he finds himself in a foreign jail singing Madonna songs with oriental women."

TLP said...

Then Sponge Girl said...
"This is actually quite funny, goldennib, because it's true!

Anyone who's had a quick peek at the Indonesian customs register from that particular month will know that a certain lexicographically oriented* friend of ours was held overnight in the local lock-up for carrying - and I quote - "suspicious maracas and an indecently shaped piece of cheese", purportedly for use at a French interpretive dance festival.

I was doing a pro bono case at the time (U2 needed a favour) and happened to witness the poor sap, who was in surprisingly high spirits, teaching a jailful of... hm, personages of questionable gender origin... a pretty elaborate "wax on-wax off" routine.

Of course I have photos, and am easily bribed.

*fortunately, the practice was no longer outlawed in his stopover destination - things could have gotten a lot worse otherwise... "

TLP said...

You can go back (which is actually "up" on the post above, and capture the story middle. The last I looked,
KARMA said...

"Where?" said Doug, his blubber quivering with excitement.

"From yonder iceberg", shouted the prettiest Troglodyte, her matted hair streaming behind her like an errant wind sock, "But be careful, she doesn't like tourists, and often eats them for breakfast. If you want to escape to a warm place, come with us. We're all going to Spain, but I must warn you, it sometimes rains there in the plains."

Doug took one last look behind him as he ran off with the pack of Troglodytes.

In the distant horizon, he could see a black dot sliding down the hill on its belly, and as it became bigger, he realized it was teh penguin."


Indeterminacy said...

Something's wrong, Doug thought to himself as the Trogs left him in what they announced would be Spain. He looked around and saw instead of the pleasant tildas and accents of his visits in central America the harsh Germanic tone of umlauts. Everywhere Umlauts. They danced over the sentences like pieces of popcorn until something snapped and Doug went berserk, scribbling out the umlauts wherever he saw them, in ä's, ö's and ü's. The Polizei broke up his vandalistic spree and locked him in a German prison.

With his one phone call, he called Indie (that's me):

Me: Who is it? Don't you know it's 3 in the morning?

Doug: Indie, it's me, Doug, I'm in prison, you gotta help me.

Me: I'm half asleep. That game you thought up really took a lot out of me. I had to read the instructions three times.

Doug: They won't let me leave!

Me: Just tell 'em you're Ambrose Bierce. They have great respect for American literature.

Doug: OK, I'll try.

He hung up, I switched on my answering machine, and went to bed. I hope he got out of the German prison.


Anonymous said...

"Où vais-je au frottage?" Doug said to no one in particular as he stepped back onto the busy street, which was not busy, but was, in fact, a street.

A petite woman walked up to the disheveled young man, and peered into his deep-set eyes. "De diable vous parlent-ils ? Il n'y a aucun fromage autour ici."

"No, no! Frottage. Frottage!" Doug shouted, frightening off the potential partner. "Hmmm," he thought to himself, "guess I rubbed her the wrong way." Chuckling, he headed off in the general direction of food, having spied a sign -- which appeared to be a few blocks away -- flashing the familiar golden arches he had come to know and frequent over the years. "Arc de Triomphe, mon âne!" he muttered under his breath, aware he had but a few Euros left, after that unfortunate encounter with the authorities. "If they're out of Egg McCroissants I don't know *what* I'll do." His belly was empty, and his standards, like his funds, were low.

(apologies again, this time to Ness *and* Sponge Girl, who apparently started this clever tale. altho', if memory serves, and i believe it does, Karma's the one who suggested we "trash" the surely she gets credit for something!)

TLP said...

Doug (like me) wasn't sure exact what country he was in at this point. So he asked the next person he passed, "Wo ist nächste Pizza Hut?"

The young man replied, "Ich spreche nicht Deutsches."

"Où est McDonald le plus proche ?" Doug tried.

"Êtes-vous aveugle?" The man said, "It's right in front of your face, silly dawg!"

"Buddy, can you spare a dime?" Doug begged.

"Only gypsies can panhandle on these mean streets you fool!" The man yelled. "I'll summon the autorités!"

Off Doug ran, hungry, tired, broke, and most definitely not wanting to be put back in jail.

Mo'a said...

Il a dit à la jeune beauté française "qu'ils sont tous qui imaginent en arrière tout le genre de senarios à mon blog, s'ils savaient seulement. Un rire a commencé dans ses yeux et a atteint sa bouche. La beauté française a indiqué "pour sûr, bébé de Dougie, s'ils savait"

He said to the young French beauty "They are all imagining all kind of senarios back at my blog, if they only knew. Laugther started in his eyes and reached his mouth. The French beauty said "For sure, Dougie baby, if they only knew"

Anonymous said...

Yes Dougie, if only they knew. For my name is Lola and you are on the streets of old Soho where we drink champagne and it tastes just like cherry cola - C-O-L-A cola.

Anonymous said...

"Lola?" Doug was confused. Suddenly he felt a hell of a lot like Waldo, for he truly had no idea where he was. "Where are my pants?"

Lola batted her thick false eyelashes at Doug, smiled sweetly, and pointed one perfectly manicured finger towards a park bench. "Dort, Herr Dummy."

Unknown said...

"Run, Lola, run", shouted Doug, "Please get my pants before someone else gets 'em".

Tossing her flaming red hair, Lola was off like a bullet. She scooped up Doug's pants and scooted off, in the wrong direction! "If you want them, come gettez-moi!"

"Merde"! said Doug, as he stood on the busy pebbled street, shivering in his boxers. "All I'm going to catch is a chill."

Fashionable ladies walked passed Doug with their poodles.

In France, no one cares if you're not wearing pants.

Mo'a said...

Except, Dougie Baby, being an American and all.
Dougie Baby started running and found himself being chased by poodles of all sizes and colors....he thinks to himself "Pink Poodle"?????"Purple Poodle"????? and shakes his head.
Then he remembered and shouted "Lola where are you"????? "Bring, my pants back, you, you, you, vous vixen vous!!!!!
Lola laughed in her most seductive way and said, ici venez bébé de Dougie.

Anonymous said...

Finally Lola sashays (that is the way it is in France) seductively back to Doug, waving the missing pants as a tease. Doug, screeching as a Pink Poodle starts sucking on his toe, is begging her for his pants. Lola finally relents and returns the pants; she feels sorry for the shivering American. Lola disappears.....

"Tout Et Bien qui finit bien" said Doug. In English. ;)

Until he feels in his pants for his wallet.

Minka said...

And the place where his wallet should have been he finds a fertility test, still enclosed in its envelope.
As he quickly goes over past encounters on foreign soil, he suddenly stands still and takes a deep breath...

It couldn´t just couldn´t be!

Almost immediately he goes through his phonebook to find a number, he knows won´t be there any more. Klein Buentzen wasn´t it and he sure remembered that red hair on a different woman...

Anonymous said...

...a somewhat statuesque woman, wearing a strange cloth hat, really more of a helmet, that completely obscured her face. She tried to walk, but, with her legs and feet bound together, bent slightly at the knees, she coudn't. So, there she stood, silent, motionless.

Doug felt uneasy. There was someting... Just then, Doug became aware of his pajama bottoms. In all that running and crouching, they'd ridden up, far up. He shifted to ease his discomfort, but it persisted. It was torture!

Dare he dig down deep and fix the problem? Grab and pull the baby blue silk fabric back where it belonged?

Doug thought twice about that. True, he couldn't see her shaded face or eyes, but maybe she could see out of that thing? She could overlook his jumping and squirming, but overt digging and scratching? He decided he couldn't risk that.

Just then, she spoke: "Douglas?" came the gravelly voice, echoing faintly within her barrel-shaped helmet. "Do you think..."

Anonymous said...

"Not if I can help it." was his shaky reply. "Well, sometimes I actually like to think, but then it hurts my head and so I ju..."

"Hello? Dougie? Baby? Do you NOT see that I am trussed up like some sacrificial pig bound for the barbeque pit? A little help?"

"Beg pardon, ma'am. Or is it sir? No wait, isn't your name Lola? So it's "ma'am". Are you a pretty "ma'am"? I mean, it's kind of hard to see what you look like through that helmut-hat thingy on your head. You know, I used to date someone who..."

"Halt die Schnauze, Arschloch! Oops. Heh heh. I meant to say was: please stop talking and help me outta this thing. Oh, but do you mind washing your hands, first? I mean, you've been picking at your butt for the past few minutes now, and well, ewwwwww."

"Wit Vergnügen Madame." Like white on rice, Doug was all over the fact that this bound-up potential babe in disguise spoke German, albeit badly.

Anonymous said...

Doug quickly swished his hands clean in a nearby stream, then untied her ankles and knees. He reached for her hat, but, arms still outstretched and slightly bent, she protested. "Nope, not the helmet, Dagwood," she grumbled. "Not the helmet."

"Sorry," said Doug. "And, by the way, your German sucks."

"Ha!" came a deep reply. "Duh! Der! Hello! Not - Deutsch -" she pronounced as she knocked on the side of her helmet.

Of course! Thought Doug. It was the Ancient Tongue, the Language of Druids, which he hadn't heard in many a day.

"Funny," he said, fumbling for the upper hand. "You don't look Druish," then laughed lamely.

She cocked her head slightly. "Yeah," she said. "Right. Hum. Now, let's get outta here before the Queen returns with more charcoal, huh, cupcake?"

Anonymous said...

"Balls!" said the Queen, "If I had them I'd be King!", a voice thundered.

Doug and his "Druish friend froze for a moment and then she ventured, "I haven't tried running since my bronze melted but there's no time like the present!"

Mit that, they ran as fast as their feet could take them...right into some metal clad guards.

Cie Cheesemeister said...

They bowled the guards over like tenpins, made their escape, and ran into the woods. But things began to grow cold and they decided to seek shelter in a cave. When they got into the cave they noticed that someone had already been there. There was a pile of ash that had been a fire not long ago. They looked around and discovered a pile of skins that was probably used for bedding. There was a large barrel in the corner. They went and peeked into the barrel.

Indeterminacy said...

"Doug!" the just turned 18 girl in the barrel blurted out. And she was very happy to see him.

Doug tried hard not to glance down her cleavage, but failed of course. He was about to say something.

"Shhh," the girl said, whispering silently, ditch your Fräulein in the cave - you and I have some unfinished business to attend to.

Doug looked at the Fräulein, then at the girl in the barrel, and thought for a moment. "What would Amrbose Bierce do?" shot through his mind...

Anonymous said...

Meanwhile, back at the blog...

"Whoa. He left. He really left. Uh, my toes have turned green."

"Take a bath. But don't drink the water, it tastes like Tang."

"Seriously, this game was funny, then it *wasn't*, then it was confusing, then it wasn't, then I went out for a walk and got something to eat and then I came back and it was confusing AND funny, and now it's just annoying. But I do like that hat on Mrs. Nesbit."

"You need to get a life. And so do I."

"I had one a minute ago, but then the dingo ate it, along with my baby."

"Girlfriend, chill out. That sounds so hostile."

"Hostile? I'll tell you what hostility is. HOSTILITY, n. A peculiarly sharp and specially applied sense of the earth's overpopulation. Hostility is classified as active and passive; as (respectively) the feeling of a woman for her female friends, and that which she entertains for all the rest of her sex."

"In other words, you with them but not me and/or vice versa?"

"Exactly. By the way, you've got a little poo on your shoe."

"How can you tell?"

"It's color is brown!"

Anonymous said...

Doug thought long and hard, but couldn't come up with a single word in the Devil's Dictionary for the predicament he found himself in. He was on his own, and had a choice to make, and it didn't take long. The Fräulein had a head for business and a bod for sin, but the young girl in the barrel was, well, incredibly attractive.

"Umm, Fräulein," he stammered, "why don't you search the cave while I interview this young lady?"

Never much interested in Doug as more than a friend, the Fräulein was, nonetheless, stung a bit by this. Still, she got the hint, flashed a sly grin to the Dawg, and disappeared into the cave.

"Now, young lady," said Doug, "maybe I can hop into this barrel with you and..."

"Yes, yes, Doug, my darling," said the girl eagerly, "but..." She reached down into her barrel and came up holding a scroll.

"But, first, my darling, you must comply with these instructions..." Doug stood back, surprised, as the young lady with the Class A cleavage cleared her throat:

"1. Pick five sites in the blogroll to the right, whose author has left no comment on this post.

"2. Leave the prescribed comment, with no explanation.

"3. Come back and replace the prescribed comment in the comments below."

She looked sweetly up from the instructions into Doug's hopelessly befuddled eyes. This was not the brightest pup in the pound, she thought, but kinda cute, so she decided to help.

"The idea, Doug", she said, "is that people will see a nonsensical nonsequitur and react to it. As they browse around, they may see the same comment from you or a different one from someone else. Over time, if they are sharp, they'll realize that all the strange comments are coming from the Waking Ambrose community and being made on blogs in the Waking Ambrose community. If it works, when they get back, they laugh and join the game."

"To keep it fun, the strange comments should change. So, if there are no comments below, you are first and your job is to leave the comment "I just saw an elephant fly" on five blogs. Then come back and leave a comment with a new sentence for the next person to leave somewhere. If there are comments below, use whatever sentence the last commenter left."

"Got it?"

Doug sputtered out a weak lie: "Ummm ummm Uh huh, I think so." Then he pleaded: "but, why can't we skip all that and just climb into the barrel together and..."

"Ah HA!" boomed a voice from behind. "So, there you are!"

Anonymous said...

DAMN! I cross-posted with the bad-prosed puppy (whose prose, BTW, ain't so bad). Whoever picks this story up is gonna have their work cut out for them...

Anonymous said...

au contraire, Al-who prematurely clicked publish! i think it's hilarious that we both went in the same direction at the same time. almost as though these storylines were occurring simultaneously. like we planned it. (which, of course, we did not!) still, good luck to the next teller-of-the-the-tale... i'm sorry i screwed things up!

Mo'a said...

Suddenly there was a flash of light and a piercing sond of tomanywordsandchatter and there.... in cypro cave space..... apeared puppy'sbadprose aka puppy'sprettydarnbadprose and al-hewhohastoomuchtimeonhishands aka

Doug and the lady of the possibly pretty darn great cleavage....if only Doug had the courage to look......screamed in unison....when Doug..... who is used to verbose and non sensical and bad spelling situations....came to and said "Five in a cave makes a crowd"
puppy of veryveryvery many words and not so bad prose and al-premature clicker looked at each other....then premature clicker aka al said "Aha!!! not such a big one liner without the Devil's Dictionary"
veryveryvery puppy started chanting "Whatwouldambrosebiercedo,whatwouldambrosebiercedo"
Dougie Baby woke up with a start...entendu que une voix douce indiquent, bébé de Dougie, il était seulement un rêve. Venez ici.
Dougie Baby let out a sigh.....thinking...."Damn, that was scary....maybe, I wan too hard on them.....mais non....let them write nonsence for two comment numbers will be the highest ever....les imbéciles.

Doug The Una said...

Karma, of course I believe in you. I mean, if you guys were wacko then I would have to be Louise Fletcher.

Puppybrose, linked to it? I'm umbilicized to it.

Pia, I'm fairly Doug. It's true. Pia, you guys write it and I'll do it. I'm like Fozzie Bear in Europe.

Better answer, Quilly.

TLP, thank you.

Mo'a, I knew I should have left your doll at home. What a tattler!

Ah, yes, G. Lola. Quelle femme!

Puppybrose, if there's one thing I hate, it's when I go outside without pants. I should tie a string.

Karma, it's true. At least here in Austria they tell you. And everyone wears dresses.

Mo'a, that Lola is such a tease to the pantsless and panting.

Alice, I see you know her too. Foreign Vixen Exchange program?

Minka, I should have known by Lola's floppy ears.

Al, you are a true New Yorker, giving me a wedgie from another continent. Now tell me who's the terrorist.

Puppybrose, s'il vous plait, there's a pickery on almost every corner.

Al, sengo nagh arghoighra.

G, you know you kind of look druish.

Cheesemeister, several of the skins looked familiar, too.

Indie, Bierce would have been snide, of course.

Puppybrose, I can't even define "Dog" without Willie's help.

AL, that was good. I'm laughing right now. It seemed simple enough. But I think you clicked postmaturely.

Mo'a, liberté, egalité, quantité!

Doug The Una said...

Now, carry on. I don't know what to do next.

Minka said...

Doug spun aorund. He knew that tone of voice, every intonation and post- aspiration. "MOM?" he asked meekly: "What are you doing here?"

"Stopping you from making yet another foolish mistake, and Jenna: get out of that barrel right NOW...and for the love of God, put something on, will ye?!"
"Dougie, I made you a lunchbox, here is your ticket to Austria and oh my God, Dougie...why are you only wearing one shoe?"

Anonymous said...


"Pooh? As in Winnie-the?"

"No. Poo, as in "stepped-in-the". It's all over my other shoe and I have to clean it off. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to see a man about a horse."

"For your sake, son, I hope everything comes out well. Oh, and Dougie? When you're through doing what you have to do, don't forget to wash your hands."

"Man," said Doug, shaking his head as he headed for the head, "Wash your hands. Wash your hands. Wash your freaking hands. What is this the frickin' Spanish Washing Inquisition?"

"NO ONE EXPECTS THE SPANISH WASHING INQUISITION!" Said an odd little man from behind the bathroom door. "NO ONE!"

"Great, just when I think I've seen and/or heard everything, I've got a freaking Monty Python fan waiting for me in the bathroom. This just gets better and better and... WHAT THE HELL??" Doug stopped in his tracks, blinking his eyes in disbelief at the sight he beheld (not to be confused with the sight he planned to behold once he got close enough to the urinal to beholding it). "How did THAT get there?"

TLP said...

It was an accordian. Because of course, that's enough music for now, lads, looks like there's dirty work afoot. The color of poo is brown and it's everywhere.

Doug, who thought he was going to have to sing for his supper, is instead going to have to clean for his supper.

The Boy from S.A.C.A.D.A. said...

One sumer my mom took me to Germiny for a whole munth. I saw a man siting next too a littel glass plate, you could put nickles in it and such or what ever Germens use to buy stuff with. he was playing songs on a acordion and i felt sorrey for him so i put a nikel on his plate. Then i saw it was Mister Pascova I know him from his blog photo becaus he made me to be a gest-poster once. Then a man came runing up and he was smiling and happey becaus he liked Mister Pascovas music. Me I says it sownded like the music when weerd things hapen in the twilight zone but i like contry music best.

So this man says to Mister Pascova, that he is Mister Jack Dee Johns and hes tuoring Europe with his band and he wants Mister Pascova to join because he nose good acordion music when he heres it.

So Mister Pascova says "Yes lets do it!". And then he asked a questoin i dident understand he asked if the there was a lotof groopies and if they was cute.

Then he got up and left and he left his plate with the coins so i got bubbel gum with it. it wasnt much any way. no one must a liked his music except Mister Johns.

Anonymous said...

On the accordion, Doug only knew how to play one song really well, so he'd generally save this particular number for those rare occasions when his audience requested an encore.

It should be noted that, when it came to encores, Doug wasn't like most musicians, who could be coaxed into performing one with the faintest cheer or applause. Oh no. To get Doug to play an encore, the audience had to file a written application, in triplicate, at least three days prior to the concert. "They gotta want it," he'd say. "Really want it." Doug was very particular that way.

This generally happened only when Doug's mother was in attendance, as she kept several applications, signed and ready, in her purse.

On that day, in front of his Mom and a little American kid, and a well-coiffed guy in a leusure suit named Jack D'Johns, Doug, still dressed in his soiled baby blue doctor dentins with one foot missing, squeezed his squeezebox to life. As the house lights came down, he sang:

Haben sie gehort das Deutsche Band
Mit a bang
Mit a boom
Mit a bing-bang bing-bang boom...

Aaah, haben sie gehort das Deutsche Band
Mit a bang
Mit a boom
Mit a bing-bang bing-bang boom ...

Russian folksongs und French oo-la-la
Can't compare with a German oom-pah-pah!
(Ve're sayin'...)
Haben sie gehort das Deutsche Ba--

Just then, the doors to the cabaret flung open, flooding the tiny dark room with bright summer sunlight.

Hollering "I don't stop for anything but gunfire!" Doug began to squeeze his accordion louder, to start a new verse, when a gunshot rang out.

The room became very quiet as the echo of the gunshot faded. From the stage, the small audience could hear the faint hissing of air escaping from a punctured accordion.

Minka said...

Thankfully over the years, Doug had grown quite a thick skin and the bullet just rolled down his leather jacket. The fact that he was wearing a huge golden neckless with a cross around his neck might have helped too. (you are not going to kill him off, AL!
"It wasn´t all that bad, American Idol has seen worse contestants!" Doug hollered.

"Zat waz horrible German! Get ze out ov hier!" an unidentified man with the typical mullet and mustache replied.

Doug has faced many a danger ignorantly, but even he had sense to realize that you don´t mess with people that can grow hair almost anywhere on their body!

He stipped the accordion and ran for the nearest exit. A hot wind brushed his face upon opening the door to what he thought was the outside....

Indeterminacy said...

"Doug! What are you doing in my bedroom," said .....

Anonymous said...

...the Ice Queen. It had been years since she'd seen Doug. He was trimmer than she remembered, his face thinner, almost drawn, and his eyes -- there was something about them, they seemed a bit wizened. His years of experience as an undercover agent, accordion player, and world-class lexicographer shone through them.

As the Queen's tone changed from surprise to whimsy, she said "So, Doug, still for someone who plays with words, you seem strangely reticent..."

Doug just stood there, still silent, in the open door, the summer sun glinting off his golden necklace as it swayed back and forth across his blue-pajama-clad chest. As he pulled the door shut behind him, the Queen breathed a long, sultry sigh.

It took Doug's old eyes a while to accustom themselves to the dark, and, when they finally did, he could see that he and the Queen were NOT alone in that room.

Anonymous said...

(I forgot a couple of important details about the Queen. Maybe the next story-teller can work these in:

1. Really Bad German Accent.
2. Bronze Helmet with Long Cattle Horns.
3. Ornately Engraved Breast Armor.
3. 7 Foot Long Spear.
4. Huge, but Happy, Feet.)

Anonymous said...

(and, this just in...

5. Teeny weeny little itty bitty ears.)

Cie Cheesemeister said...

Standing in the room with Doug and The Queen were none other than King Smut, Netherworld Pornographer, with his camera, Peter Piper with his jar of pickled peppers and his pipes to provide the bad porno movie music, and Sexy Sadie, The Crappy Times' truth-bending Intimate Relations Expert, ready to write about the whole unfolding experience in detail whether or not it actually happened. Doug and the Queen were frozen in surprise to find their private moment being made so terribly public.
"Well, what are you waiting for?" King Smut demanded. "Time is money!"
Peter Piper began playing "Let's Get It On," and the diminutive Sexy Sadie, all three feet nine inches of her, stood at the ready in her nun's habit and lingerie, pen to pad, scribbling an account far lewder than the reality at hand.

Cie Cheesemeister said...

As Doug exited that ludicrous scene and ran into the light, he ran straight into Humphrey Bogart who had been waiting for him in the hall.
"Here's looking at you, Kid," Bogey said. "Now that you've escaped that juke joint, I'm gonna take you to a place where things are really swinging."

TLP said...

Just then Doug realized that the Porn Queen had a really bad german accent. That was okay, but the
bronze helmet with long cattle horns and the
ornately engraved breast armor really turned him off.
Fortunately the 7 foot long spear was a big turn-on for him, and the huge, and happy feet and teeny weeny little ears were a big help in that department as well. Our boy has strange and exotic tastes.

The cameras started rolling....

TLP said...

Oops! Cross-posted with the cheesemeister! Whatever. Maybe Bogie is the director...

Anonymous said...

And off he went with Bogie to the door of a local speakeasy where Bogie confidently rapped and Doug finally loosened the wedgie that had been plaguing him for some time.

A small opening slid over and a man with dark curly hair asked for the password.

"Swordfish" Bogie mumbled.

The door opened slightly to the guardian of the gates dressed in a bronze helmut with long cattle horns and an ornately engraved breast armour. At her side was a 7 foot sword with which she motioned them in, paying special attention to Dougie.

TLP said...

Dougie swooned at the sight of the 7 foot sword. He remembered what everyone always said about women with big swords.

Anonymous said...

Dougie swooned again when he remembered what everyone always said about *men* without 7 foot swords. Once he finally regained his composure, he walked through the narrow doorway, and, as if on cue (for in fact there had been one) the orchestra began to play the first lilting notes of a crowd favorite, "I'm Tiowed". Dougie cleared his throat, and tentatively started to sing:

"Here I stand, the beagle of Desire,
Set hearts on fire,
I have this power.
Morning noon and night it's drink and dancing,
Some quick romancing,
Then a quick shower.
Stage door Janies always surround me,
They always hound me,
With one request.
Who can satisfy their lustful habits,
I'm not a rabbit!
I need some re-e-e-e-e-e-est!"

The room full of Teutonic women (all dressed as Viking warriors, for some unknown reason) screamed in noisy delight and chimed in with the chorus:

"He's tired!
Tired of playing the game!
Ain't it a crying shame,
He's so-o-o-oo tired!"

Dougie looked around and realized Bogie had beat a hasty retreat for the office in the back, leaving the wandering American to fend for himself. Deciding to go with the flow, Doug cleared his throat again, adopted the pose of a 1890's call girl, and sashayed his way through the parting sea of lusty women.

"I've been with 1000's of girls,
From all over the world,
They promise the moon.
They always coming and going,
Going and coming,
And always too soon!
Right girls?"

"Right Dougie! And, if we're not coming, we're breathing heavily!" they shouted in unison, then broke out in round after round of raucous laughter.

"I'm in for a long night," thought our hero. "Too bad I don't have my camera with me, they'll never believe this back at the blog."

Doug The Una said...

Uh, guys?

Anonymous said...

Shhh, Doug. Don't interrupt. Can't you see, we're trying to get you laid and killed? (Or, because its fiction, maybe the other way 'round?)

Minka said...

One voluptous female Viking stretched temptingly and stood up, reached on top of a shelf and pulled out a game of Scrabble.
"Master of words, we have heard rumours! care for a game, loser has to shovel the snow infront of the house all the way to the garage!"
"I sure could use a cold...exercise. I am in!" the dawg replied.
"Are there any different rules around here?"

"Nope!" the Viking ladies replied and smiled" youa re familiar with Icelandic letters aren´t you?"
She reached inside her fur and pulled out a bottle of Brennivin: "Let the wording begin!"

Kyahgirl said...

I'm haveing such a good laugh. you guys are killing me here....once again, a sociologist / psychologist type could do some serious publications from the things revealed on this blog.

anyway, get back to the strip scrabble with the Viking goddess....

Anonymous said...

I have, like, no idea what to do with Icelandic Scrabble... Minka? M'oa? Help? (Is this how they write Icelandic soap operas?)

Minka said...

Doug LOST! He lost big time and in not many minutes. He took it like a champ and also he started telling himself he lost on purpose, ´cause who would want to be the one that makes a bunch of estrogen ladden Vikings upset, he knew that the Icelandic "Þ" was going to be his death!
We find our hero shovelling snow outside a house in the middle of nowhere, could be Finland, but who would know?
As he finished the last few meters, totally out of breath and not the wiser, somebody adressed him from behind...and Doug thought he´d never say this, but he was glad for it to be a male voice.

Indeterminacy said...

He turned and saw a gentleman, perhaps 60 years old, neatly dressed in the clothes of the late 19th century period.

"I am the spirit of Ambrose Bierce" the manly voice said to him, "and I've come to send you through a series of words, words that are blog domains. You are to visit each of the blogs of those individuals who have frequented your modern renditions of my wisdom."

Doug was overwhelmed by the presence of his linguistic hero and bowed before him.

"Rise, rise!" Ambrose stated, and silence! this is no time to mince words. Hurry on your way to the blogs. I must return to Mexico.

And as the final syllable faded, so did Ambrose, vanished into the wilds of Mexico, as he had that time before.

Doug considered which blog he would visit first. He closed his eyes and thought of the domain...

Anonymous said...

Cool plot device, indie.

..."Courting Destiny!" said Doug, and, with those words, he was instantly transported to a neighborhood near Riverside Park on the Upper West Side of New York City, where, dressed in one-legged, baby blue, poo-stained Doctor Dentin pajamas, wearing a cross hanging on a heavy necklace of gold, and still lugging his wheezing, broken accordion on his back, he had landed in a spot where he fit right in.

It was a blazing hot late afternoon in summer, but, even with the setting sun in his tired eyes, he could see a man in a rumpled suit and blue tie with his head, hands, and feet locked into an old wooden pillory. He looked closer, and recognized president Bush as the device's tormented prisoner. A street cleaner was sweeping litter from around the president's securely bound feet, clear evidence of a small crowd that had recently broken up.

Beyond the pillory, Doug could see a darkened outdoor area, shaded under a huge arched ceiling. As he approached, he could see tables, and waiters carrying trays, it was a restaurant! On the other side, in the distance, he could see a sunlit marina at which a few small boats were tied up. This was the West 79th Street Boat Basin! And, if so, then that lone customer, sitting there, sipping on a tall drink with a little umbrella sticking up out of it (a Tahitian Lady!) and flipping through several small pamphlets, must be...

"Pia!" Doug said, tentatively. "Pia Savage?"

Pia turned and said, "Doug! Come here." She looked back down at the pamphlets in her hand as she asked, "OK, where do you think I should move? Hmmm. There's Santa Monica, which looks nice, and Miami Beach..."

She dropped the pamphlets, looked up at the ceiling, and let a breath out through pursed lips. "I just gotta get out of this town before Winter." she announced, and then smiled and looked at Doug.

As Doug began, "Pia, I don't know what to suggest...", he looked at her face and could see that it was changing colors, from one psychedelic shade to another, iridescent pink, chernobyl green... "Pia!" he said, "your face?"

"Oh, that," she said, a little amused. "New iMac, my new photo blog, what do you think? How do you like it?"

As she smiled, waiting for an answer that would never come, Doug heard the now-familiar disembodied voice of the Departed Bierce booming in his good ear: "CHOOSE... ANOTHER... DOMAIN..."

Anonymous said...

Doug thought quickly, "Hmmm, well I know this is cyberspace, but it seems logical to stay in the neighborhood, so to speak". With that and not knowing what guided him he had boarded a downtown #2 Train.

He felt as if he hadn't slept in months (perhaps with good reason) so the rocking of the subway's rhythm and the sermonizing of the homeless man lulled him into a nice slumber. Only to be awakened by the distorted suway announcement and a bit of a lurch - "Last Stop in Manhattan, Wall Street".

The gentleman reading the New York Post's Page Six dropped the paper down and said, "This is us Doug, got your gun and camera?"

"Al?" Doug stammered uncertainly...

Kyahgirl said...

"yeah" said Al, "I think you cheated on my last set of questions Doug and we need to talk about it"

They stepped off the train and they hadn't gone far when, to Doug's delight and Al's surprise, a Belgian Tervuren wearing a seeing-eye dog harness came up to them.

"Kyah?" woofed Willie, as he struggled to surface from the Doug persona.

"Oh yeah buddy, its me" said Kyah. "I hate to tell you this my friend but you reek! You need an intervention"

"Now I'm decked out in this rig so we can go incognito. Al, look natural will ya! Come on, Christopher Street isn't too far and we have to pop in at Aedes".

No one even looked twice at a guy with a camera walking up the street, holding Kyah's harness and being shadowed by a scruffy Beagle.

They made it to Aedes where Willie and Al collapsed into chairs, petted the puppies that greeted them at the door and looked around in amazement at the bottles of fragrance. Just as Robert came through the curtain at the back, the door opened and a gorgeous blond sauntered in. She tripped over one of the dogs but quickly righted herself.

Doug, by now inured to coincidence, just quietly shook his head and whispered in awe, "Neva, I am so happy to see you".

Anonymous said...

Al smiled and said: "I know that Pia's down on New York. Poor deluded soul. So I am going to show you the fun side of New York." Doug was bewildered. After listening to Pia bitch so much for two years straight he couldn't imagine a fun side. They got off the number 2 train, walked a bit uptown, and Al proceeded to explain how the sewers operate, and then he took him to the graveyard at Trinity Church where they stood in respectful silence at Alexander Hamiliton's grave.

Doug didn't know what to do after that, but soon he heard something intoning wisdom. He quickly, Doug can be sharp, realized that he speaks dog talk and this particular dog lives in Stamford. What was it doing in downtown Manhattan? The woman next to the dog smiled at Doug: Neva, Snuppy? Whatever she called herself, there she was. And Doug almost eagerly awaited the next part of his journey, with some fear

Anonymous said...

Neva/Snuppy/Whoever gave Doug a quick hug, laughed at the fact that it rhymed and said, "Welcome to the Nutmeg State, my furry friend. Oh wait, you're not here for nutmeg, are you? You're here because you want to know if it's TRULY possible to find decent Mexican food on the east coast. No, that's not right.... Uh, you're wondering if you can take a shower? NO... THAT'S NOT RIGHT, EITHER."

Disheveled -- and more than a little disoriented -- our wayward hero sat on a large rock and rested his head in his yet-to-be-washed-hand. "Damn. Why didn't I listen to my mother when I had the chance?" he wondered aloud, to no one in particular, least of all the blond woman wearing UGGS, who was standing nearby. Suddenly, a voice called out from a few feet away.

"WOOT to the HOOT! HERMANO!! I am here, amigo! And, as long as you're sitting there, I-can-teach-you-how-to-more-effectively-reach-into-your-mind-and-or-your-pocket-in-order-to-enhance-this-part-of-your-carazy-and-funkified-journey!"

"Miz BoheMia? You're here, too?"

"Yes, my-little-friend-soon-to-be-neighbor-because-I'll-be-living-in-the-same-state-as-you." The dark-haired beauty laughed and shook her behatted-de-liced-though-there-weren't-any-in-the-first-place-so-why-on-earth-did-she-put-herself-though-that-anyway head. Reaching out with an arm laden with oh-so-many-pretty-bracelets-that-make-a-festive-jangly-sound-when-she-did-so, she took Doug by the tattered sleeve of his baby blue pajama top, and helped him get off the rock, not-to-be-confused-with-helping-him-get-off-his-rocks-because-she-is-a-very-happily-married-woman-thank-you-very-much-and-besides-this-is-a-family-blog-for-godssake.

"Thanks" was all Doug could muster. "Any chance a guy might find a TGSNWM around these parts?"

Snuppy/Neva/Puppy'sprosereallyblows smiled, pointed to the bus stop down the street, and handed him a pass, along with a coupon for one cup of coffee. "I know you're a lot like me, and life just doesn't seem right until after you've had copious amounts of caffeine. Hopefully you'll find what you're looking for at Starbucks. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to call BoBo. And then I have to call my NBFF. And THEN I have to send an e-mail to PIA, because, well, I owe her a note! And then... well, never mind, that's none of your business. Oh! And, Miz B? You are MORE than welcome to stay here, dearest chica, but I'm thinking the Dawg could use a little more help."

Doug smiled sheepishly in agreement, and was quickly joined by the mysterious and beautiful BoheMian. "Oh! Hermano!! 'Tis a fine day, FO' SHO', when BoheMians are allowed to stroll down the street with their most-beloved-and-adored-and-did-I-mention-soon-to-be-living-in-the-same-state-neighbor? I did? Dios mio! I guess that goes to show how FUNKALICIOUS you are, mi amor!"

Within a few minutes, the bus to "all parts Stamford" arrived, the doors swung open, and the BoheMian stepped up, followed by Doug. After handing his pass to the driver, he looked back to locate the closest seat and/or exit, when his eyes landed on a face he knew he knew, but he didn't know why. He tried to appear nonchalant and "not look" at the familiar face as he followed the BoheMian to the back of the bus, but felt another tug at his even more tattered baby blue sleeve. "Excusez-moi" was the last thing he heard before he hit his head on something shiny, and passed out cold in the middle of the aisle.

Anonymous said...

("puppy'sproseblows" - Ha! that was just laugh-out-loud funny.)

Kyahgirl said...

thank god snuppy happened along to get us all straightened out. She does a pretty good job of channeling Miz B. That was impressive.

Alana said...

When he awoke, he discovered that he was no longer in the middle of the aisle on a bus, but on a train. He looked around, only to discover that all of his friends were still there, and wearing pajamas (mostly flannel pajamas, slippers and fuzzy robes, for those of you with overactive imaginations) and a train conducter who looked oddly like Tom Hanks was standing over him.

“What’s going on?” asked Doug.

“I’ve heard a rumor that you no longer believe?”

“In Santa?” Doug asked.

“Santa? You’ve been reading too many children’s books lately, there’s your problem! Why to Ambrose Bierce of course!” the conducter shouted.

“But I DO believe in Ambrose. I even have a blog, called Waking Ambrose.”

“Exactly WAKING Ambrose. Which implies that he needed to be woken and has not indeed been living in the hearts of men all along!”

“I see,” said Doug, as a bright lightbulb literally appeared above his head, “so then we’re headed to Mexico?”

“Oh, that’s just an urban myth, we’re headed to the North Pole of course!”

“But doesn’t Santa live in the North Pole?” asked Doug as the light bulb disappeared from view.

“Santa!?! What’s with you and Santa? The North Pole is one of the coldest, most isolated, darkest places on the planet, and people think a Jolly Saint who delivers gifts and has magical elves lives there? What is with you people?” The director asked increduosly as he grabbed the ticket from the pocket of Doug’s blue fuzzy robe and punched a “C” into it.

TLP said...

Do you want to save our Doug? Do you? Then stand up, clap your hands and shout, "I believe! I believe!

Alana said...

"Oh and don't think HE, and when I say HE, I mean Ambrose Bierce, doesn't know about you." Said the train conducter.

"I have no secrets that I would want to hide from Ambrose.", replied Doug.

"Really?" asked the conducter. "Did you really want his to know that you dress up as Santa Claus and tolerate young children every Christmas season? Sure TLP seems to believe in your cynicism, but I don't see too many others here supporting that they believe that YOU believe in Ambrose and evidence is starting show that you have more faith in some jolly ole guy who and cynic knows DOESN'T exist"

Doug looked around the train nervously toward all his pajama-wearing friends. Surely someone else believed in his cynicism...

Anonymous said...

"Ah ha!" Came a shout from the back of the train. "I knew it! You, sir, are no cynic. You are a softy. And a sentimental one, at that! Why, you lie like a dog in heat on your very own blog. You claim a passion for all things Bierce, and yet you DRESS UP LIKE SANTA CLAUS DURING THE HOLIDAYS??? I'm shocked. Shocked I tell you, SHOCKED!"

Every one of the pajama clad passengers on the train started to snicker. The ones still in their regular clothes did, too. Soon all began to chortle. Some in joy, others with glee. Chortling led to chuckling, chuckling led to guffaws. Since Doug hadn't just fallen off a turnip truck, he knew where all this was going, but before he had time to cry out "Help Mr. Wizard!" the train started to shake with a cacophony of laughter.

"A cacophony of laughter? Oh the humanity" Doug thought to himself, as he sat down on the floor, and gathered his fuzzy -- and extrememly tattered -- bathrobe around him. Pulling one end of the the robe's fuzzy/fluffy belt up to his face, he rubbed it gently against his cheek as he began to suck his thumb.

TLP said...

So, I see that it is not by belief alone that Doug will be saved. It will be by his actions.

Sooooo....Doug jumped up, pulled out the 7 foot spear that he had stolen from a lady in his dark past, and started poking all the laughing jackels on the train. "I am so too a cynic! I'm the best curmudgeon in the known universe!"

"Take that! And that!" he yelled as he stabbed his way through the train passengers.

elvira black said...

Suddenly, all was Darkness. After what could have been an eternity, Doug came to, only to find that all the passengers were gone. As was the train.

He strugged vainly in the darkness to free himself from the cruel restraints which inexplicably held him down in the Quiet Room at Bellevue.

Not that he knew where he was. But we do.

Bizarre yet oddly pleasant musings overtook him. He idly wondered: if fruit could talk, what might fruit say? Into his minds' eye came a vision of the singing Fruit of the Loom fruits. If fruit could sing, then surely they could talk, n'est pas? Was it not possible, he further reasoned, that all the world was a fruitbowl and we were all merely fruit salad? "Cantelope," he silently proclaimed, "C'est moi!"

A sliver of light sliced through the blackness as the door slowly creaked open. He was no longer alone...

Kyahgirl said...

Doug became aware of a cool, touch on his wrist and realized there was a naked plastic woman in the room with him. At first, in a moment of confusion, he thought he was back in California, then realized, no, something was different about this lady. She was far too short to be a California girl.

"Doug?" Pansi whispered in her sweet, girlie voice.
Doug, I culd just cri. I hav wonted to get u tyed up and nekkid four a longe as I kan remembr. But now, I hav to get u outta hear! "

"u hav to kosentrait Doug! Ambroz gaiv u the gift of blog hoppng by mearly thinkng of a nu domane."

Doug closed his eyes, breathed deeply, and thought about someplace safe and quiet where he could gather his wits. He thought of his friend AP3 and felt a moment of peace.

"Thanks Pansi, you've shown me the way" Doug said with heartfelt gratitude.

Next thing you know, Pansi was in the room by herself and Doug was on his way to the Mystical Montage.

Alana said...

The next time Doug became conscious, he found himself sitting in the lotus position chanting Ohm with his pal AP3..."how did I get here?" he asked mentally (yet thought he asked out loud).

"Relax. This is all part of your all is a 'journey' you do realize that don't you?' he heard, yet didn't see AP3's mouth move (how could this be?).

He looked around...

"Buddha?? Jesus?? Ghandi?? Pansii??!?!? Puppybrose??!?? Kyahgirl??? TLP??? How did you all get here? And where are we all anyway?"

Doug The Una said...

Kansas, here I come! Well Cincinatti. Same diff.

Anonymous said...

"Where we are is not important. Where we're going is" said TLP.

With that the room began to swirl and the closest thing to stablility that Doug had felt in ages was pulled from underneath him like a damp yoga mat.

They spun and twirled and THUD! The door opened and they looked out on...a warehouse. People going to and fro. Coversations fraught with angst and backbiting and plotting. A woman saying she'd show them all sashayed by.
Then a forklift swung round in one deft move and on it was a velvet tufted seat. "Hop on" said a familiar voice softly.

Doug shakily complied and got up into the seat. "Move aside Satin Lady, I have someone new joining us for lunch today" Actonbell said.

With that, they drove towards the lunchroom.

Anonymous said...

"Where we are is not important. Where we're going is" said TLP.

With that the room began to swirl and the closest thing to stablility that Doug had felt in ages was pulled from underneath him like a damp yoga mat.

They spun and twirled and THUD! The door opened and they looked out on...a warehouse. People going to and fro. Coversations fraught with angst and backbiting and plotting. A woman saying she'd show them all sashayed by.
Then a forklift swung round in one deft move and on it was a velvet tufted seat. "Hop on" said a familiar voice softly.

Doug shakily complied and got up into the seat. "Move aside Satin Lady, I have someone new joining us for lunch today" Actonbell said.

With that, they drove towards the lunchroom.

Anonymous said...

"Where we are is not important. Where we're going is" said TLP.

With that the room began to swirl and the closest thing to stablility that Doug had felt in ages was pulled from underneath him like a damp yoga mat.

They spun and twirled and THUD! The door opened and they looked out on...a warehouse. People going to and fro. Coversations fraught with angst and backbiting and plotting. A woman saying she'd show them all sashayed by.
Then a forklift swung round in one deft move and on it was a velvet tufted seat. "Hop on" said a familiar voice softly.

Doug shakily complied and got up into the seat. "Move aside Satin Lady, I have someone new joining us for lunch today" Actonbell said.

With that, they drove towards the lunchroom.

Anonymous said...

"Where we are is not important. Where we're going is" said TLP.

With that the room began to swirl and the closest thing to stablility that Doug had felt in ages was pulled from underneath him like a damp yoga mat.

They spun and twirled and THUD! The door opened and they looked out on...a warehouse. People going to and fro. Coversations fraught with angst and backbiting and plotting. A woman saying she'd show them all sashayed by.
Then a forklift swung round in one deft move and on it was a velvet tufted seat. "Hop on" said a familiar voice softly.

Doug shakily complied and got up into the seat. "Move aside Satin Lady, I have someone new joining us for lunch today" Actonbell said.

With that, they drove towards the lunchroom.

Anonymous said...

"Where we are is not important. Where we're going is" said TLP.

With that the room began to swirl and the closest thing to stablility that Doug had felt in ages was pulled from underneath him like a damp yoga mat.

They spun and twirled and THUD! The door opened and they looked out on...a warehouse. People going to and fro. Coversations fraught with angst and backbiting and plotting. A woman saying she'd show them all sashayed by.
Then a forklift swung round in one deft move and on it was a velvet tufted seat. "Hop on" said a familiar voice softly.

Doug shakily complied and got up into the seat. "Move aside Satin Lady, I have someone new joining us for lunch today" Actonbell said.

With that, they drove towards the lunchroom.

Anonymous said...

Hey, G, its OK, shhhh, its OK.

Now, put the mouse down, that's it, that's right, just sit back, lift your fingers from the keyboard, uh huhh, that's it, everything's gonna be okay now...

Anonymous said...

On the plus side, G, you and I have now pulled the comment count on this post even with the count on the post above, the one descrbing that goofball game Doug left us with. So, come on, everybody -- pick any one of G's five identical comments above to continue the story...

Anonymous said...

Did you bring me a latte Al?

Haha, I should have grown suspicious when the darn verifier kept appearing! Oy vay.

Sure, if you don't get an idea where to take it, just read 3 times, 4 times, 5 times...

Anonymous said...

G, where's Doug, again?

Anonymous said...

G, where's Doug, again?

Anonymous said...

G, where's Dou...

oh... heh heh. guess that wasn't what you had in mind, eh Al?

TLP said...

Where we're going is to hell in a handbasket. And Douglas and TLP in a handbasket takes a damn BIG basket.

When is that dog coming home anyway?

Anonymous said...

"Well I never!" sputtered Satinlady sliding over and smoothing out the crease in her polyester pant leg.

"That's what we hear..." said Doug, winking at Actonbell, who continued to stare straight ahead, in hopes she might have a chance to wing a few co-workers on her way to the lunchroom.

It was then that our hero noticed a small bobblehead siamese cat perched on the dashboard. "Well isn't that special?" he muttered sarcastically under his breath, knowing full well the driver, should she hear him, might have a change of heart and dump him out on his ass before he had a chance to finally get something decent to eat. And based on the noises his stomach was now making, he knew he needed to eat.

Glancing sideways, he was relieved to note his lovely driver was focused on the task at hand, even as she swerved in time to send a large stack of Dr. Phil books flying in all directions. "Hah! Take that DR. Phil!" She cried, as she set the vehicle back on course, and sped towards the lunchroom.

"Here we are!" Actonbell finally announced to her passengers as she jerked the forklift to a stop, set the emergency brake and hopped down. "Everybody out!"

Because of the awkward seating situation inside the small cab, Doug climbed out on the passenger side first, then offered a helpful hand to steady Satinlady as she stepped down onto the concrete floor. "This will be the death of me, yet" snorted the cranky woman as she scurried ahead in hopes she wasn't too late to get a fruit cup.

"Hey, then you can finally use that plot you've been saving for all these years, right??" called out the precocious Actonbell as Satinlady disappeared behind the lunchroom door. Turning to Doug, she allowed a small frown to crease her brow. "Doug, I hate to break it to you, but I have to go out for a short run before I eat. Care to join me?"

"How short is short?" asked Doug, thinking anything over the distance from where he was and where there was food was all the exercise he could manage.

Bending down to tie the laces on her Nikes, the lean lady answered over her shoulder "Ah... 3 or 4 miles, tops. You in?" When she heard no reply, she looked up in time to see the figure clad in a fluffy blue bathrobe racing towards the sandwich bar as fast as his feet could carry him. No small task, as he was still without one shoe.

"Darn. He forgot to take TLP's GIANT handbasket. And, based on everything I know, he's gonna need it, and SOON." Actonbell gently shook her head and sighed, and then sprinted off in the opposite direction as fast as her muscular legs could carry her.

"Hot puppies, grub!" was all Doug could muster as he surveyed the splendid array of processed meats before him, stopping cold when he realized that, in fact, the only meat left was something that looked suspiciously like pimento-loaf.

Anonymous said...

Attagirl, puppy! (And I like pimento loaf; reminds me, I skipped lunch...)

Not much left to do now but get the guy laid and killed. We should be able to manage that by the 14th, no problem.

Anybody? First to volunteer gets to pick which one...

Anonymous said...

Al, let's not rush into anything. I don't think we're ready to get him laid yet, perhaps killed...

The story resumes:

Doug stood staring at the pimento loaf for what seemed like hours but was actually just seconds.

What became very strange was he once again heard the "CHOOSE ANOTHER DOMAIN" command and thought to himself "Give me a break, if I don't eat something soon, I'm likely to perish".

At that moment, he wasn't sure if he was halucinating from hunger or the strange events that had become his life, but next to the "pimento loaf" were PEZ dispensers and the last he remembered before once again blacking out was reaching for the DDDragon dispenser...

Anonymous said...

Doug awoke in a room with muted rose lighting, lying on a bed covered in deep purple silk sheets and feather pillows. The walls were festooned with forest green satin.

His arms and legs were tied to the bedposts with fuschia silk scarves but he wasn't complaining becasue he was being fed peeled grapes by two lovely masked strangers.

Doug relaxed, so to speak, for the first time on his journey.He could take whatever came next because of all of these luxuries.

Anonymous said...

OK, GN, spill it. How much did Doug pay you to write this? (The Dawg's gettin' Lucky...)

Anonymous said...

"Oh boy," thought Doug, "I'm gonna get lucky."

"Define lucky," whispered the lovely masked stranger into the Dawg's ear.

Realizing his thoughts were not his own, Doug tried to think of something non-specific. Something neutral. Something beige. The best he could come up with was a pair of khaki Dockers he wore back in college.

"Monsieur!" Hissed the stranger pressing a cup of warm tea up to his lips. "Beige is ze color of dullards. Certainement vous pouvez faire mieux que cela!"

Doug was certain, however, that not only could he NOT do better than that, he didn't WANT to. The silk sheets, while nice, conducted heat a little too well, and he soon found himself sticking to them like post-its on a TPS report. "What's a guy gotta do to get some real food and a fresh pair of socks around here?"

The masked strangers looked at each other, then back at Doug, that back at each other... and backed out of the room.

"Well that's just freakin' perfect. First you tie me up, feed me a few paltry grapes, give me one, maybe two sips of crummy lukewarm tea, and now you're leaving me here to soak back up the sweat off my back?? Come back here!" He laughed nervously, when he heard himself say the word "back" 3 more times, after seeing it written in the paragraph just above this one 3 times in a row.

Alone, Doug wondered aloud what would have happened had he instead conjured up visions of the paisley nylon shirt he wore out to a bar once, on a dare.

"Oh, monsieur..." came a deep voice from behind a velvet curtain in the corner of the room. "Paisley is ze color of amour. Préparez-vous au bâti!"

"Whoa!!! Hang on there, pardner...the only thing mounting at this moment are concerns! This dawg doesn't swing that way. (Not that there's anything wrong with that)."

The voice behind the curtain coughed and said, "Je suis désolé. Mon erreur..."

"Damn straight 'vous erreur'..." Several minutes of uncomfortable silence passed before it occurred to Doug that he was, once again, alone. "I have GOT to get out of this place... I don't know how things are in Denmark, but something's rotten around here!" Which he confirmed after conducting a quick "whiff check" under his own musky armpit.

Anonymous said...

And that musky whiff triggered a reaction in Doug's brain. He remembered the advice he once heard from his hero, MacGyver, "Stay calm, stay cool and use what is at hand to escape."

Ignoring his sweaty back, Doug took the little grape peeling knife in his mouth and began sawing through his silk bonds.

He got his hands free and untied his feet. He wrapped a silk sheet around himself ("tingly," he thought.)

Just as he reached the door to escape, it burst open.

"No, you can not leave," moaned the blonde masked stranger.

"We need you to populate our new commune," said the redheaded masked stranger.

"I can not be a nameless, loveless donar," cried Doug, "I must have commitment."

Doug tried to break free of his mad captors but they grabbed him, announcing, "If we can not have you, then no one will."

Alana said...

he deperately reached around for his laptop (as a blogger never goes too far without his/her laptop). He knew he needed to find another domain, yet the current situation was leaving him with very little time to type, yet he...must...escape...this ...situation (or musn't he?)...he made a desperate lurch for the keyboard and in one swift sweep, he typed simply, the letter "g"

TLP said...

Of course the address bar suggested "google" since he used that so often. Google! Not exactly what he had in mind! But then, who knows what evil lurks in the mind of ...

Mo'a said...

........ and "google came up.... his eyes were filled with tears as he instead hit the letter L.....up came Leikur og List...”What the hell?” he said
“Leikur og List” “what does that mean and why would anyone name their blog that?”
Then as quick as a Santa on Christmas Eve, Doug found himself facing a blond curvaceous lady of an certain age :) “Am I home?” whimpered Doug
“No my dear” replied the BCLOACA “Sit down, pick any chair you like”
“OK!!!!” he said through his sobs.......and looked many many kinds all over the house......he picked a French style silver chair with red and black satin seat......he has come to like matter what anyone says. He then said in the voice of a three year old “Where is Paloma?” “I want to sit on her and pontificate”
“She is outside in the garden, you are in no shape to pontificate”
“You are in a safe house now” said the BCLOACA “Tell me how are you feeling”
“Confused” replied Doug, as he took his thumb out of his mouth .......he then snapped to attention and said “You are not going to get me killed” then he hopefully added “Or laid”
“Doug, are you effing crazy?” “I am a married woman and I don’t even own a gun” Then she handed him a plate of brownies and said “Will you have some brownies”
Doug took three brownies and thought to himself at least I can get stoned.
The brownies had no effect on Doug......he thought"I am wasting my time here" and he reached for the computer and just then the BCLOACA caught his hand and said “Not so fast mister”
“Let’s talk”
Doug screamed at the top of his lungs “Words, words to many words” and then started crying again and said “Forgive me Ambrose Bierce”
BCLOACA shook her head and though to herself “Poor Baby, he needs to be...........

Anonymous said...

"Smacked" shouted G, "at least that's what they do in the movies when someone is dazed".

"G!" cried Mo'a "what are you doing here?"

"G!" cried Doug "remember I'm not the sick kind of serial killer, right?" Doug added weakly.

With that G threw a glass of water in Doug's face. "G?" Doug whined.

"I went easy on you, it could have been a smack." G said as she reached for a brownie. "Now, did you think I was going to let you head to another domain while you're so close by on the East Coast?" G continued, "besides I was right across the highway visitng my Mom when I heard that Doug was in town and attempting to sit on Paloma and you know how I feel about Paloma. No offense Doug".

"None taken" Doug muttered.

Doug mused that they all seemed so nice in the blogs yet each of them seemed happy to help him get around but he always ended up stranded.

"Now come on Doug, my NBFF is waiting in the car outside, we're heading to Queens in style."

With that, they made a run through some early season snowflakes and hopped into the waiting vehicle.

Neva turned around and smiled broadly "Well aren't you a sight for sore eyes, but I lovelovelove that robe of yours! Where to?"

"Why to Queens Nevala, this guy needs a haircut and I have just the barber for him..."

With no special effects, they arrived in Queens in the front of the Lampshade Household in 39 minutes. That Snuppy! They told Doug to go in through the downstairs as they needed to see a man about a latte.

Doug walked forward but he was pretty sure it was not his brain commanding his body to do so. He entered into a lovely dimly lit room.

"Sit down" said a man with a Transylvanian accent as a violin played mournfully in the background...

Anonymous said...

Now Al, do you see why I hit the post button feverisly!?

I just added my piece to the thread - the longest and if I may best (not saying much) of my additions thusfar and it's gone! Poof! And I selfishly worked it back to my blog!

Now what? Oh woe is me...

Anonymous said...

Now Al, do you see why I hit the post button feverisly!?

I just added my piece to the thread - the longest and if I may best (not saying much) of my additions thusfar and it's gone! Poof! And I selfishly worked it back to my blog!

Now what? Oh woe is me...

Anonymous said...

Now Al, do you see why I hit the post button feverisly!?

I just added my piece to the thread - the longest and if I may best (not saying much) of my additions thusfar and it's gone! Poof! And I selfishly worked it back to my blog!

Now what? Oh woe is me...

I suspect this has something to do with my beta status.

Anonymous said...

Okay, so I overreacted a little. And haha, did I say my best addition? I meant er, best effort maybe?

Okay, well onward and upward or something. I wish I could edit some of that damn addition...

Anonymous said...

I see a couple of things that I'd like to edit above, but there it is at your mercy...

Anonymous said...

...ah!ha! got you said BCLOACA.
Doug blinked his eyes and shouted "You again, is this Leikur og List"
BCLOACA laughed no this is To Live A Creative Life
Doug looked at BCLOACA and said "Am I in Kansas? Cincinatti?"
"No silly you are on my new blog"
Now Doug sniffed and said "I want to go home"
BCLOACA said "I like your haircut"
"I want to go home"
"You can't go home until you get either laid or killed"
Who says that and why
"You blog friends and family, and I don't know why. When they agreed on that I was Christmas shopping and making a new blog in blogger beta"
"I pick laid"
"Not here, lets see where can I send you for that? The as quick as a flash much to his relief Dougie baby found himself.....

Anonymous said...

"Now, Doug, I'd like to say something to you," said G. "But I need your undivided attention."

Doug frowned a bit. "Okay...?" He said, haltingly.

"Now, Doug, I'd like to say something to you," said G. "But I need your undivided attention."

Doug stared straight into G's lampshade, obviously confused. "Well, what?" he asked.

"Now, Doug, I'd like to say something to you," said G. "But I need your undivided attention."

That was it. Doug now knew G had run off the rails, repeating herself this way, but he couldn't undersand why the Transylvanian and the violinist couldn't see it. He looked about the room, there was something wrong, but he couldn't...

"Now, Doug,", said G again. "I'd like to say something to you, but I need your undivided attention."

Doug ignored her. Looking into the dining room, he could see that something didn't add up. Something was out of place. But, what... Finally, it registered. There, on the dining room table, a half-eaten cheeseburger! "Kosher Alert!" he thought to himself, immediately realizing that this couldn't be G, and this coudn't be G's family!

He'd been kidnapped! And, with that, he jumped from his chair, as G said, "Now, Doug, I'd like to say something to you..."

His life in danger, Doug summoned the Spirit of His Beloved Ambrose Bierce again. This was not over! Not here, not now. He closed his eyes and shouted "BelleOfTheBrawl Dot Blogspot dot Com!"

Surely, Sar's would be a safe domain for him.

TLP said...

Once at Sar's he had to jump through a ring of fire! He hit his head on the concrete sidewalk, after bouncing off that ladder that some fool had placed there.

Laid! I've got to get laid or I'll never see home again! But who? Where? Of course he forgot that there was another alternative: He could just die...

Anonymous said...

And he might have died, had it not been for that half-eaten burger he'd grabbed off the table at fake-G's house before being whisked away.

"Cold, but derishious" he said between bites.

"Believe it or not, that cheese you're enjoying so much is made of soy. And that burger? Black beans." Spinning around, Doug found himself standing nose to nose with another beautiful redhead, adorned in a broad-rimmed hat that looked suspiciously like a lampshade.

"Okay, before you take one more step, are you the *real* G or another fake G? I'm thinking "fake G", because the *real* G knows I hate veggie burgers."

"Doug. Douglas. Dougie. Dougie-boy. Oh Dougie-boy, the pipes the pipes are calling... Did I NOT just hear you pronounce that veggie burger you're holding in that unwashed hand of yours 'derishious'? Why yes, I believe I did. Face it, Bubula, you like it. You know you like it. Everyone likes 'it'."

"Wait. "It"? What are we talking about here? Sex? Something I might buy on eBay? Or is "it" this cold/crappy veggie burger I just ate by mistake? I'm confused."

"Confused? Or are you merely a sane man drowning in a raging Sea of Crazy? My friend, only you know the answer to that... answer to that... answer to that... answer to that... answer to that... answer to that..."

Doug watched in fascination as the Lampshady Lady repeated the same three words over and over and over until a tiny trail of smoke began to escape from between her parted lips. "Mmm mrt mrb. Mmmm mrt mrb!"

"Mrt mrb?? Mrrrrt murrrrrb? Oh!" A light bulb went off in Doug's head "Are you trying to say LIGHT BULB?" The silhouetted figure nodded vigorously, so Doug peeked under the shade and noticed that the bulb was, indeed, out. "That I can fix!" he said, producing a shiny new bulb from the pocket of his ratty/frayed robe, without once wondering how it got there in the first place. Carefully he removed the old bulb, replaced it with the new, and was delighted to note the spark restored to the real and/or fake G's eyes.

"What?" said G.

"What?" said Doug.

"What? What? What??" said G, with more force.

"Uh... what what, G? What now? What's up doc? What do I want for dinner?"



"Wha-a-a-a-a-a-t?" it was more of a plea than a question, and suddenly another bulb went off over Doug's head. "O-o-o-o-h... WATT."

The lampshade nodded several more times, and Doug realized he had used the wrong bulb. "I should have known better than to use a 60. She's much brighter than that."

The room fairly glowed as Doug gave the new -- and brighter -- bulb a final twist. "Alrighty then! Now, where were we, real and/or fake G?"

But before she could reply, a gloved hand reached around and smashed into the right side of Doug's face, sending our hapless hero flying across the room.

Moments later, the dazed young man tried to get up, but was prevented from doing so by something pressing down on his chest. Upon lifting his head to discern the cause of this new and terrible pain, he winced. It was the same reaction he had every time he encountered the business end of a 4 inch Blahnik stiletto.


Alana said...

"Why who else could it be?? Do you mean to tell me that you have OTHER stillettos in your blog's life??!!? DO YOU?!???

Well if so, that's pretty swell and where are they?? I'd love to meet them and hang over and chat over a good glass of wine. Oh and hey I heard you came from G' must tell me all about her shoes while we discuss politics...and are you okay?? You are fading in and out of this reality ala the cheshire cat, I mean all I can see of you know is your teethy grin...oh wait! You don't grin...where are you going? I simple must hear about G's shoe....Dooouuugggg!!!"

Alana said...

"Oh there you are!" replied Sar as Doug re-imerged from wherever in the blogosphere he seemed to be drifting in and out of...

"But I don't want to go among mad people," Sar remarked.
"Oh, you can't help that," said the Doug: "We're all mad here. I'm mad. You're mad."
"How do you know I'm mad?" said Sar.
"You must be," said Doug, "or you wouldn't have come here."
Sar didn't think that proved it at all: however she went on. "And how do you know that you're mad?"
"To begin with," said Doug, "a dog's not mad. You grant that?"
"I suppose so," said Sar
"Well, then, " Doug went on, "you see a dog growls when it's angry, and wags its tail when it's pleased. Now I growl when I'm pleased, and wag my tail when I'm angry. Therefore I'm mad."
"But i thought you were a dog?" Sar asked perplexed.
"Of course you did. That's because we're all mad here. For example, here it's 42, not 47."

"What?!?" askd Sar. "42? Now that truly is madness..."

Lila said...

Okay, it's December 16, and I've finally gotten around to reading this. I LOVE that someone (Al?) mentioned the Jack D'Johns, formerly featured in BASIP! How awesome is that? XOXOXO

mireille said...

And, speaking of xoxo, Doug -- who mysteriously now sports long blond locks tied back with a blue ribbon, started speaking in tongues, or something like them, as he spouted:
"The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came! One, two!
One, two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.
'And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!'
He chortled in his joy."

He thought for a minute. "Oh, maybe not. I liked it better when I had a choice of getting killed or getting laid."