notes and botes....boats, rather

So much dialouge, I know! I couldn't figure out where I wanted the story to go next, so I just kept rambling. Until the meteor hit, that is. Not real sure about that, yet. Part of me thinks it's a great idea. I don't want aliens or alien viruses or paramilitary task forces to show up, but I just needed something BIG to happen to propel the story along.

I like Ralph through. Maybe he's the hero of the story. It's so hard to tell anything at this point....

second story, ad naseum...

Somehow, midair, Tom nimbly flung off his pants, which landed atop the ledge of the splintery pool deck, and sucked in enough air to submerge himself in the pool, landing in a half belly-flop, half something else that ended in a lot of welts and pain, but that didn’t have time for any thought, either.

Holding his nose, and eyes stinging from the chlorine, Tom peered up through the ruckus of the disturbed water as the swarm of bees confusedly flew away, eating their piece of the proverbial humble pie, which Tom, if he were in his sorts, would have called “bumble pie,” and he’d have had a good chuckle.

Rising to the surface, Tom spied a weird kid with a pair of pants on his head staring down from the diving board.

"Who're you, mister?" asked the kid through the wide-open zipper of Tom's kakhis.

"Why are my pants on your head?" Tom replied. He had a problem answering questions with more questions.

The kid thought for a second, then decided to ignore Tom's question, "I asked first. Plus, you are in my pool without permission, and I am currently wearing two pairs of pants, both of which place me in a position to ask the questions here."

Meanwhile, just a few yards away, the Halsey children watched the whole wonderfully weird conversation from behind Mrs. Carlise's hydrangea bushes.

"That Ralph Roosevelt is one strange child," whispered Rachel Halsey.

"I hear he was raised by a family of clowns until the Rooselvelts adopted him," added Jacob Halsey.

"Did anyone notice how he picked up those pants and put them on his head?" asked Matthew Halsey.

"That's nothing," Jacob continued, "just last week at school he spent half our geography lesson arguing with Mrs. Treachle that he had been King Siam of Pangea in a past life."

"King who?" asked Sadie Halsey.

"Quiet, guys. I can't hear what's going on," ordered Rachel, peering intently through the bushes.

"....don't care how many pairs of pants you've got on, " Tom raved from the sideo f the pool, "You could be Pantalones MeGee for all I care, just hand me back my friggin' clothes so I can get out of your flippin' pool and be on my freakin' way!"

The kid, known to the Halsey children as Ralph Rooselvelt, considered Tom for a second, then sat down on the deck and asked, "So what were you doing jumping into the pool like that?"

"The bees, you idiot! The bees!! Didn't you see them!?!"

"Of course I saw 'em," Ralph countered. Then added a bit morosly, "I'm not an idiot, you know."

"Whatever you little stinker, just hand me my pants already! I've had enough of this rubbish conversation. I just escaped a horrible death by bees and stinging and all I want to do is put some clothes on! Is that too much to ask you stupid snot!"

"Hey!" yelled Jacob stepping out from behind the hydrangea bushes, "That's no way to speak to a kid, ya big jerk!"

Ralph turned his head, peering throught the zipper at Jacob as the rest of the Halsey children stepped into sight.

"Yeah, you the supid one what through his clothes all around!" added Sadie (strong words from the youngest of the Halseys).

"What is this, some kind of freakin' kiddie birthday party!?!" Tom fumed, "Just someone -- anyone! -- hand me my frickin' clothes!!!"

And that was precisely the exact second that a small yet rather impressive meteorite slammed into the Roosevelt family's spacious backyard.

Choices!

Holding his nose, and eyes stinging from the chlorine, Tom peered up through the ruckus of the disturbed water as the swarm of bees confusedly flew away, eating their piece of the proverbial humble pie, which Tom, if he were in his sorts, would have called “bumble pie,” and he’d have had a good chuckle.

I'm having trouble deciding which way to go next. So I'll let Brett decide. Or anyone else who happens to read this. It's like those Choose Your Own Adventure books!

Your vote is important. Your vote is your voice.

1) Rising to the surface, Tom spied a weird kid with a pair of pants on his head staring down from the diving board....

2) Rising to the surface, Tom decided it was finally time to call upon his Tiger Shaman....

3) Rising to the surface, Tom was caught by surprise when a cartoon fish swam up to his face and said, "Hi! My name's Puck! Who'r you?"

notes from my butt

What if the bees were really intelligent bees that forced him to that particular swimming pool? I was thinking about this today at work, before I knew about the swimming pool, and wondering what if these bees were super-smarty-pants bees or magical-witch-type bees or something-else-entirely bees that were driving Tom to a specific place? Here were some of the places I came up with:

1. A magical orange grove.
2. An awesome balloon-animal party.
3. An Olive Garden.

There were more, but I forget them. It doesn't really matter anymore. But think about the smarty bees and let me know what you think.

p.s. You can hate it if you want.

p.p.s. But I still want a witch to show up somewhere.

p.p.p.s. And I want her to fly on a PVC pipe.

p.p.p.p.s. Or a lacrosse stick.

Notes so far.

So far, I like the second story better. Mostly because I like the Halsey kids, even though I only know half of them yet, and of those two, I really only like Sadie. Timmy can bite it...though maybe he just needs a new name.

The second story....

The four children of the Halsey family, all striped in sweat and heavy backpacks, looked at each other in amusement as a man ran down the road, screaming. “You get this kind of thing often when you lived caddy-corner to a nuthouse,” they’d always say to their friends.

The man’s name was Tom, but he wasn’t crazy. He was, indeed, being chased by a swarm of angry bees.

Tom couldn't even remember his own name he'd been running so long. To be honest, he'd only been at it for a couple of minutes, but if you knew Tom, you'd know that two minutes was an all-time record for him. If Tom weren't running for his life, he probably would have remebered that old story about a mother who was able to lift an automobile that had rolled onto her small child -- all because of adrenaline, which Tom had in spades by this point. But Tom wasn't thinking about any of this at, because those bees seemed to be gaining.

Mostly, Tom had only one thought. Water. Tom knew two things about bees. One, that he was allergic to them. And two, that bees hated water. He needed a stream, a river, a lake -- even a a swimming pool would suffice. But he didn't know the area well. And hadn't seen anyone since the bees.

The bees. He knew why they were after him. And he couldn't bear to think of what might happen were they to catch him. "Keep running," he thought. "Keep running....find water," he repeated to himself over and over.

The Halsey children watched Tom run off the road, up the embankment and out of sight.

"D'ya think we should go after him?" asked Sadie Halsey, the youngest and perhaps the most good-natured of the Halsey children.

"I don't know, we might want to steer clear of anyone screaming and running around like a nutter," Timmy Halsey thought aloud. Timmy thought aloud most of the time. He was a thinker, and a vocal one at that. And more than likely, his thoughts were good ones. Steering clear of mad-ranting loonies running in no particular direction was, in general, a very excellent idea.

Tom wouldn't have liked that particular description of him, were he allowed to sit down and think about it. But Tom hadn't even noticed he'd been screaming at the top of his lungs just yet. Remember, running and great bodies of water were mostly on his mind. So his screams, while quite audible, hadn't really registered. He hadn't seen the Halsey children a couple hundred feet down the road. He hadn't noticed he was running off the road and up the embankment. He hadn't even really noticed he'd been on a road at all. He was a bit out of sorts at the moment, so I'm sure you'll excuse what happened next.

The first story....

Tom noticed a hole in the door of the abandoned house, kicked in, probably from some drunk with a mission to do the door some real harm, as the door had it coming. "Missions aren‘t just for drunks," Tom thought, and got down on his hands and knees and stuck his head in the hole, then both his hands. For the slightest moment he thought about how he felt like a schnauzer, crawling through a puppy door that you see in every movie with a pet in it. Tom really liked Bethoven's Second the best, though he couldn't remember any schnauzers in that one. And then, "No time for dogs," he thought. "Bees can fly."

He looked behind him and saw the thick cloud of pissed off bees, all hot and hungry and buzzing, ready for some sweaty flesh, which Tom owned.

Tom ran along the porch heading straight over the rail and into the thicket surrounding the house.

Tom hated thickets. Tom hated running. But most of all, Tom hated bees. If you knew a little bit of Tom's backstory, you might understand.

Tom had a long history with bees. You see, a swarm of angry bees had once ruined his entire life. And whether or not this was the same swarm didn't matter; Tom still hated them.

For once upon a time, when Tom was a small child growing up in Nebraska, a wild swarm of angry bees had killed his pa. And Tom had vowed revenge on all bees everywhere, until the end of time. His only problem was that with one sting, Tom would die. And he'd be just as dead of his pa. So Tom, while harboring a hatred beyond all words, had never done a thing about his vow. Instead, he went into computer science. And that's how he got mixed up in this whole fiasco.

BEES. KILLER BEES.

Okay, so I don't know if they're killer bees, but they're after him. Also, I wrote two seperate beginnings, nothing like each other. So pick the best one (or combine them if you want) and go nuts. Do whatever you want, then send it back to me. It'll kind of be one of those middle school "send it to me and I'll write some more and then send it to you" kind of deals, only modified in that really I will let you (and myself) add onto, change anything that the other person writes, elaborate on things and all that, etc. Here they are.

**********************

Tom noticed a hole in the door of the abandoned house, kicked in, probably from some drunk with a mission to do the door some real harm, as the door had it coming. "Missions aren‘t just for drunks," Tom thought, and got down on his hands and knees and stuck his head in the hole, then both his hands. For the slightest moment he thought about how he felt like a schnauzer, crawling through a puppy door that you see in every movie with a pet in it. And then, "no time for dogs," he thought. "Bees can fly."

He looked behind him and saw the thick cloud of pissed off bees, all hot and hungry and buzzing, ready for some sweaty flesh, which Tom owned.


(and)


The four children of the Halsey family, all striped in sweat and heavy backpacks, looked at each other in amusement as a man ran down the road, screaming. “You get this kind of thing often when you lived caddy-corner to a nuthouse,” they’d always say to their friends.

The man’s name was Tom, but he wasn’t crazy. He was, indeed, being chased by a swarm of angry bees.

*****************

They're not too long, so do what you want. I look forward to seeing your creative juices vomit all over these.

b