Sunday, September 14, 2008

September 14th Topics


Creeps
Who is the creepiest person in your office?


Greeters
The two massive stone sculptures sitting at the entrance ...

1 comment:

ItsNaughtKnotty Cannned said...

Greeters
The two massive stone sculptures sitting at the entrance sent shivers through our bones. We knew we needed to reach the lands beyond the foreboding structures before we could do what unlikely heros in poorly designed fantasy stories do.

I looked over at my devoted, somewhat awkward, and yet delightfully charming sidekick and saw the panic in his eyes. Fearing our quest might be undone by rash and impulsive reactions to perceived dangers, and being the quirkish lead character in a remarkable series of unlikely coincidences, I knew we needed to pass underneath the obelisks quickly and move onto more efficacious adversaries made from flesh rather than stone.

"Just keep paddling as fast as you can and we'll slip right through the opening," I said aloud to assist future filmmakers and audience with understanding the obvious.

"But I am weak from our weeks of ill-advised travel through hostile lands while poorly equipped, and my natural tendency is to freak out whenever we encounter the next strange construction project," said my sweaty companion in a manner to assist future creative writing teachers with examples of how not to write dialogue.

"Paddle you little wussy! Paddle!"

Of course the moment we neared the terrifying blocks of cement in our undersized and badly maintained skiff, a booming voice from the heavens erupted in our ears and we nearly capsized as we scrambled to embrace one another and look into the implacable faces of the ghoulish towers.

"We gots ourselfs annudder coupla hero types," said the figure on the left.

"Shaw do," the figure on the right replied. "I wonder if the little fat one will tip the boat over and sink to the bottom like all the other ones did."

I glanced at my little fat friend wondering if his plan included drowning me, and then I gazed over the edge of our boat into the shallow lagoon and the clarity of the water allowed me to see a number of slightly decomposed fat boys floating near the bottom with anguished looks on their faces and river-bottom silt covering up their shoes.

"If you tip this damn boat over, I will kill you."

"Let's give our new visitors our most fearsome fury," I heard one of the statues say. I couldn't determine which statue spoke since they both had the same booming echoing reverb in their god-like voices and really we don't have time in such a short essay to give unique characterizations to such archetypal figures.

"Shall we dance the hokey-pokey?" asked the other.

"With extraordinary gusto!"

The two plaster mannequins raised their arms and shook their booties and swizzled their manizzles, and from an unseen overdubbing music engineer came the sweet sounds of studio monitors crackling with amped up bass and crystal clear treble. I can only describe the horror as yet another excellent example of unnecessary non-plot specific musical television being unleashed into society without clearing the It-Makes-Sense committee.

"Stupid dancing statues," my opulent confederate muttered and we paddled onward beyond the hokey-pokeying monoliths.