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The Baronzo Creative Writing Thread (a place for an even more casual conversation)


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In reply to an earlier post on Dec 18, 2008 5:02:10 PM PST
Last edited by the author on Dec 18, 2008 5:03:00 PM PST
Marilyn sat on the hot bus, and a hundred thoughts whirled through her head and out her left ear. She had left behind her family, her home, and some guy in Louisiana... and just pulled up stakes and headed for Tinseltown. It was a brazen move. But would it pay off?

Yes, she was hopeful for stardom and fame, but she also knew that there was a chance that she very well could end up working behind the snack counter in Woolworth's at the orange-ade machine where a skinny, horse-faced assistant manager named Kenny would develop a crush on her. (A grim scenario she cared not to entertain.)

Finally she arrived at The Hollywood Hopefuls Hotel. It had once been a glorious place, a towering jewel in the heart of Hollywood. But now the place seemed so desolate somehow, so very uncared for... like Truman Capote's gym bag.
Marilyn approached the front desk and placed her suitcase on the floor. A petite, clean cut man of about sixty with thick glasses and a shock of silver hair appeared at the front desk.
"Checking in, my deeeeeaaaaar?" he asked.

In reply to an earlier post on Dec 18, 2008 6:12:07 PM PST
Last edited by the author on Dec 18, 2008 6:21:53 PM PST
ronzo says:
While we wait on Doc's reply to Sard, I'm just gonna give a shot at the first tale:

They had been in the Walmart for hours when Barbie's brassiere stopped its usual hum. It was really a radio you see. Instead, there was a faint, broken voice singing ... and they could just make out the words:

Life is hard, and so am I,
You better give me something,
Before I die.
Novocaine for the soul,
Before I spudder out.

Only Yukon "Gold" Cornelius knew that this was a message from Mr. Potatohead. (You will remember he was floating aimlessly in space.) "The time has come. Everyone to the grocery store!" Once there, Cornelius loaded them up with table cream, buttermilk, and chives: as much as they could carry.

"We have to bring these things to the Chosen One" explained Cornelius, who whipped out his transporter and sent them all to GI Joe.

Joe hardly noticed them materialize, being totally immersed in his tv show ... The Facts of Life. "Oh Tutti" he thought, "were we never meant to be?"

"Joe, its an emergency! We need to borrow your 5-Star Lego-Land red-and-white-block kitchen with stainless steel appliances and gas-top range!" shouted Cornelius. GI Joe was only all too keen to help. He quickly led them to the spot, and as if by instinct, this is what he commanded:

"Scald out a glass bowl large enough to hold the buttermilk and table cream! Hurry, hurry. We don't have much time. Allow the bowl to return to room temperature. Pour in the pint of table cream into the bowl; then stir in the 1/4 cup of buttermilk. Cover the top of the bowl with cling wrap; then place the bowl in a warm place, around 80 degrees F.
Notice as I use the inside of a gas oven where the pilot light retains a nice even warmth?!! Now we have to let this mixture sit for approximately 24 hours."

"Oh Barbie, how I've missed you...."

Time passed.

"It will go fairly solid", explained Joe - "meaning it will jiggle around a bit. It will have a consistency similar to a soft jelly... slipping around as a soft but solid mass.

When it has reached the above stage, line another bowl with 3 or 4 layers of clean cheese cloth. Spoon it into the cheese cloth lined bowl. Tie up the corners of the cloth to make a bag and hang it to drain - don't forget to place a container underneath the bag to catch the whey. Let it drain until it reaches your preferred consistency. The draining will only take a matter of hours. You may let it drain until it is as firm as a cream cheese, or stop draining it when it reaches a rich texture. If you forget about it and it thickens too much, simply stir a bit of the drained whey back in until it's just right. Spoon it from the cheese cloth into a clean container and store it in the refrigerator."

If it was one thing GI Joe knew in all his time eating potato, it was how to make a good sour cream. Yukon Cornelius looked out the kitchen window into space, just as Mr. Potato went Spudnova, littering space with his fleshy goodness.

It took awhile for Cornelius to remember where he had stashed the table legs, but once he found them, it was child's play to attach them to the black lego rectangle that had stood uselessly obelisk-like in the center of the room; and lower it into a horizontal position. "You mean that is all that was?" moaned Joe. "I spent all that time trying to figure it out ... AND IT WAS A TABLE!!!" "Yes Joe, I'm afraid so, you see, I was only vacuuming, and I had moved the table only temporarily when I got the message from Mr. Potatohead, and had to rush out to help Barbie" answered Cornelius.
"And I spent hours on end making rectangles on my Etch-a-Sketch FOR NOTHING?" asked Joe. "I never thought you'd use it" Cornelius remarked. Nobody likes Etch-a-Sketch. Pass the smashed potatoes please Barbie."

In reply to an earlier post on Dec 18, 2008 6:16:01 PM PST
Last edited by the author on Dec 21, 2008 6:01:33 PM PST
Mae Rose says:
Marilyn looked at the seal faced man with the thick glasses, and felt an inner yearning. He reminded her of her Uncle Fronz who had attempted to trifle with her when she was seven years old. Although she tried hard not to notice him--though she tried to forget the trauma of the past, he held a singular fascination for her. I--I--I--she stammered. I am a Hollywood Hopeful, and I wish to--wish to--. She could not bring herself to utter the words that filled her heart with desire. Then, reality took charge of the situation. She bolted from the dingy hotel and ran into the street. "I don't care where I stay tonight! I will not stay here and trust my destiny to a seal faced man who reminds me of my Evil Uncle Fronz! I will fling my fate to the winds", she gasped as she looked up at the star filled heavens. "I don't want to be with Uncle Fronz. I want to be a star! I want to start from the top! I want someone to find me. Now! Now! NOW!" A light glimmered in the distance, and she saw what looked like a warm room. It was a drug store. The proprietor was locking the door for the night. She ran up to him and gasped, "Take me in! I am at your mercy!"

In reply to an earlier post on Dec 18, 2008 6:31:15 PM PST
Ronzo,

Um, was that a recipe for sour cream incorporated in that chapter?
Did you forget to take your pills today? ;-)

Smashed potatoes are yummy.

So do we proceed without Doc or await his return?

In reply to an earlier post on Dec 18, 2008 6:34:06 PM PST
Mae Rose says:
Nobody likes Etch-a-Sketch except the brilliant Brianarrow, has singlehandedly taught himself to solve the intricate complexities of the 4 by 4 rubiks cube, the 5 by 5 rubiks cube, and the singularly nasty 7 by 7 rubiks cube which is only obtainable in Hungary. Brianarrow's mind moved into a trance of ecstasy. He started thinking about a book written decades ago called "Flatland". Ah, yes, there is a connection here. The Etch a Sketch is actually a living being from the 16th dimension. If only I could communicate with this exquisite being, I would be able to control the world. THE WORLD. The Etch-a-Sketch entity only communicates through the medium of two dimensional twisting of knobs which most educated beings on this planet regard as childrens' play, a waste of time that could otherwise be used to learn verbal gymnastics. Instead of learning to say, "beg the question" or "this screams for an action step" or even the ubiquitous "as it were", children are learning to twist knobs to communicate with a being which has infinite knowledge and infinite wisdom and infinite power. I will live on dry bread and tap water, said Brianarrow stoicly. I will sell all my goods and spend all my time learning to communicate with this being. There are those who say that the spirit of the infinite Etch-a-Sketch does not exist--that it is just a figment of man's imagination--of childrens' imaginations. But I know that the Etch-a-Sketch entity is looking for someone intelligent enough to communicate with it. That would be ME. And he grasped his Etch-a-Sketch, while listening to an audiobook of Einistein's "Unified Field Theory", which even Einstein was unable to understand. I will be the one, he screamed into the darkness. THE ONE!!! THE ONE!!!

In reply to an earlier post on Dec 18, 2008 6:35:39 PM PST
Last edited by the author on Dec 18, 2008 6:40:20 PM PST
ronzo says:
But Marilyn had been mistaken. It was not a drug store at all, but a jewelry store, and the warm glow was the glint of light on diamond. And the command "Take me in! I am at your mercy!" was not new to the man at the door for it was none other than John Robie "The Cat". They embraced quite passionately, for he was quite good at that, and she was no slouch herself. But the diamonds beckoned, and they fought to regain their composure.
'click' ... 'snick' ... 'pring' and he was in.

In reply to an earlier post on Dec 18, 2008 6:38:42 PM PST
ronzo says:
Baron,

Poetic license old boy. How much more CREATIVE can a guy get? LOL :)

I say go on, (cause I just did when you were writing this) because he may either not come back (some people are sane like that) or can continue from where we leave off. i'm almost done for the night anyway.)

In reply to an earlier post on Dec 18, 2008 6:55:02 PM PST
Mae Rose says:
Where did you get all these diamonds, sighed Marilyn with fascination. She had never seen a more handsome man, and she had never seen more diamonds in her life. The seal faced man immediately left her thoughts. How could she have ever been so desperate to think of him? The Cat murmured into her ear, "I have been the proprietor of this store since my father died last June", he said, as he nibbled the lobe of her right ear. Marilyn was used to this, but not from a man this handsome, this suave, this sophisticated, this rich. Still, she tried to make him think she was used to this kind of attention--that she ran into men of this caliber every day in her home town of Red Oak, Iowa. "Oh, yes, diamonds. I--I know all about diamonds too. My--my Uncle Fronz had a--a diamond", she stammered, her face reddening. "I--I know--I know---" Then she was in his arms. She tried to resist, but how could she. Then, in the midst of thrilling abandon, she heard a strange noise. It was a song. A rap song. The cacophony of this beastly noise caused her to come to her senses. "It's my cell phone", he said. Another shipment of diamonds is on the way. And he ran away from her into the darkness.

In reply to an earlier post on Dec 18, 2008 6:59:09 PM PST
The jewelry store, she thought. Three words... but they held so much. When she was a tot her mother once showed her some lovely, delicate things in a store window. Of course, it was the butcher shop, but she didn't know. So here Marilyn was, in a passionate embrace in a jewelry store, as John effortlessly flipped the door sign to the "Closed" side facing outward (with his foot). They locked lips there, right by the glass case holding sapphire bracelets and ruby slippers. The street lamp cast a golden haze over them.

"My goodness," she purred, trying to get untangled from his limbs, "you certainly dress nicely for a shopkeeper!" He wore a black tuxedo. It was immaculate; no lint, no dandruff spangled across the shoulders like those people on the bus had.
He spoke softly in her ear, his British accent like some divine honey: "Your suitcase is rammed in my jewelry box." She dropped the case, and giggled coquettishly. He smiled and said, "You remind me of a coquette I once knew. She made the best chicken croquettes I ever experienced. I don't know what she did to that gravy. We used to spend weekends playing croquet at the country club. But that was before the tragedy on that night in September."

Marilyn tore herself away, and looked at him seriously. "I don't want to hear about the coquette's delicious croquettes and how she played croquet!" He looked at her intently. Her beauty was luminous, like the sun. Oh, she didn't spin around and emit gas or anything like that. Well, not much.

In reply to an earlier post on Dec 18, 2008 7:01:56 PM PST
This is getting difficult to write. Maybe we ought to abandon it before it gets even more incomprehensible?
I wrote a passage while Mae Rose wrote one, and mine appeared after hers. It got screwed up.

?

In reply to an earlier post on Dec 18, 2008 7:06:16 PM PST
Last edited by the author on Dec 18, 2008 7:09:28 PM PST
Only bailing on this particular thread; I mean, I'm not at the Horror board right now, either. I'm here on the Amazon boards for good, as far as I can see. Especially at the Classic Movies where I'm finding such good new friends.

In reply to an earlier post on Dec 18, 2008 7:09:16 PM PST
Mae Rose says:
Flatulance! Flatulance! screamed Brianarrow to the Etch-a-Sketch! And suddenly, Marilyn found herself in Brianarrow's small room. "What am I doing here", she screamed. I didn't emit gas or anything like that. Well, not much. And what happened to The Cat. I thought I had found the man of my dreams. What am I doing in your humble abode?" "I am the famous Brianarrow, who has conquered the 7 by 7 Rubiks cube, and will soon conquer the Etch-a-Sketch. You are mine forever. I will make you a star, when I become wealthy, just as William Randolph Hearst made Marion Davies a star! You are mine!" he screamed. "I don't think so", stammered Marilyn as she attempted to escape from his humble abode.

In reply to an earlier post on Dec 18, 2008 7:13:22 PM PST
Mae Rose says:
"There is no need to flee", yelled Brianarrow. Every thread can be put together! There is no such thing as incomprehensible. Einstein said it! So does the Etch-a-Sketch Entity. All things come together for the good of this thread. It does not matter whose sketch appears first or second. All is in harmony", said Brianarrow, as he twisted the knob of the Etch-a-Sketch and produced a diamond. "I am learning", he said with confidence, "And I can summon the body of the Cat here at my will. I am master of the Universe!" And with that, he screamed, "Do not abandon this thread. All is well. All is well. ALL IS WELL."

In reply to an earlier post on Dec 18, 2008 7:15:48 PM PST
Good, Doc. You make the classic forum a cool place to be!

In reply to an earlier post on Dec 18, 2008 7:18:53 PM PST
ronzo says:
But the only escape was into the Etch-a-Sketch's two dimensional realm. On she ran, until she ran into a parade of two dimensional badgers. "Badgers, badgers, she said, I don't want no stinking badgers!" You don't smell too good yourself lady, the king badger said. And she had to put up with the abuse, for there was no way around them.

In reply to an earlier post on Dec 18, 2008 7:22:46 PM PST
ronzo says:
Oh, Good Doc Mabuse,
Don't be so obtuse,
You're rhymes are fast and loose.
If you left our thread,
Our tales would feel dead,
Too many things left unsaid.

In reply to an earlier post on Dec 18, 2008 7:24:07 PM PST
I think I need to exit this zany thread, too. These stories are just getting totally discombobulated... even more than I expected (and that's saying something).

Sigh... "Don't let's be silly" was fun for a bit.

------------------------------

One last thing. For Ronzo:

(phone rings)
Hyacinth: The Bouquet residence, the lady of the house speaking! (pause, then happily beaming) Sheridannnnnnnnn!
Richard: How much does he want?
Hyacinth: I don't know that he WANTS anything. He's just making a thoughtful call to his mummy, dear. (pause) You need how much, Sheridan?

In reply to an earlier post on Dec 18, 2008 7:39:44 PM PST
Last edited by the author on Dec 18, 2008 7:41:02 PM PST
ronzo says:
Yes all,

Let's abandon ship!!!!!!!

nighty night.

Sard,

70 pounds ... for silk pajamas ... because your friend Tarquin has silk pajamas....

In reply to an earlier post on Dec 18, 2008 8:05:33 PM PST
LOL!! Tarquin! Too funny.

Richard: Why has Sheridan given up architecture class for needlework?

***********

Emmet: (in a defeated tone) She'll sing at me. I know she will.

***********

Nighty Night

In reply to an earlier post on Dec 18, 2008 8:12:21 PM PST
Ronzo,

PS: Check your profile for an Amazon Friends Invite. (I know, I know.. oh, goody gumdrops!) ;-)

In reply to an earlier post on Dec 18, 2008 8:28:51 PM PST
Mae Rose says:
Come back, Doctor! We need you! Come back, Doctor! Don't go! We need you!

In reply to an earlier post on Dec 18, 2008 8:30:21 PM PST
Mae Rose says:
Doctor and Baron! It's all my fault. I went wild and ran you off. Don't leave! It's all my fault! Don't go! I went manic and ran you both off.

In reply to an earlier post on Dec 18, 2008 8:55:33 PM PST
Mae Rose,

It just wasn't meant to be. You didn't do anything wrong!
Maybe Ronzo will begin a thread where we can just be silly (without continuing stories on it).
Meantime, it's best if we bid adieu to Marilyn's weird adventure.
I am signing off from this thread.
See you on the forum... :-)

In reply to an earlier post on Dec 18, 2008 10:45:03 PM PST
Last edited by the author on Dec 18, 2008 10:48:16 PM PST
Mae:

Love you love you. You didn't run me off, and I look forward to meeting again on another Classic Movie thread. Thanks, everybody.

On the other hand, I feel like the first rat to desert a sinking ship.

It's just as well, though. Had I continued, I was going to give Bill a sex-change, re-name her Myra Crane, and send her to an isolated Arizona motel for a good shower...

In reply to an earlier post on Dec 19, 2008 6:29:09 AM PST
Last edited by the author on Dec 19, 2008 7:06:10 AM PST
Mae Rose says:
Doc and Sard. Thanks for your kind words! Perhaps we can still do this thread. It's a very neat idea, and we could all be so creative. When I started all my posts, I had just left work for a 10 day vacation, and was so happy that I made many posts all at once. Why don't we try again and do only one story at a time and take turns. I'll be good and wait my turn. It's a wonderful idea! I love the idea of the sex change and Myra Crane and the isolated Arizona motel. Just think of the zany ideas we could all add.

Or perhaps I just tolerate madness and craziness better than most because I've been working in maximum security mental hospitals for nearly 40 years!
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