Part Three

He then moved to replace the bat in his (very big) back pocket, but froze as a foul, cackling laughter filled the alley...

Stan froze in horror as the dissonant laughter filled his ears. It was strange, yet familiar. It was a laugh Stan realized he knew all too well.

He had to get out. Away from the laughter.

Stan ran out of the alley, the laughter following him. Running into the street, he shouted for help, but no one heard him.

As Stan ran into the parking garage the laughter was still close behind him. He thought he had escaped this fate years ago. But it was back, Stan realized. And this time, he realized he would not be able to escape.

"But could it be?" Stan wondered. "Could this fate still be haunting me?" Stan turned behind and confirmed his worst fears.

It was Polly. The ten foot tall, one-eyed parrot he had left in the street fifteen years ago. And now it wanted revenge.

"Polly want your head!" the parrot screeched, laughing its horrible laugh. "Polly want your..."

Without looking back, Stan broke the window of the car he was standing in front of and jumped in. Quickly hot-wiring the motor, Stan floored the accelerator and drove off, beginning his desperate search for...

Episode II

As he shoved the gun to Stan's head, the man demanded...

"Gimme da hat, sucka!"

Stan froze in shock.

"I said gimme da hat!" the mugger repeated, "Gimme it or I'll waste ya!"

"Please," Stan begged, "don't take my hat! Take my wallet or my car keys, Heck, take the rest of my clothes if you want, but please don't take my hat!"

"Da hat or yer life!" the mugger shouted. "WELL!?!?!" he screamed when Stan didn't immediately comply.

"Give me a second, I'm thinking about it!"

"Don' think! Gimme da hat now or I wastes ya!"

"Well," Stan said, "when you put it that way..." But instead of taking the hat off, Stan reached into his back pocket and withdrew a rather large aluminum baseball bat.

"Wat da..." the mugger said before the bat connected with his hand, knocking the gun away.

"OW!" the mugger screamed, "Why you dirty little piece a ..." The bat made a distinct klang! as stan Stan expertly nailed the enraged mugger in the forehead.

"Tsk, tsk, such language," Stan childed, "Now, are you done here, or do you want me to continue?"

"Yer gonna regret doin dat," The mugger slurred, stunned by Stan's previous blow.

"Oh I doubt it," Stan replied. The mugger then pulled a very long and heavy steel pole from under his baseball cap. "Oh crud," Stan said, barely blocking the mugger's swing.

"Stan' still!" the mugger demanded as he swung and missed again.

"Oh, yeah, right," Stan laughed as he ducked a third swing," Like I'm really that stupid." Stan then twirrled the baseball bat around him like a ninja would a katana in a bad kung-fu movie. Terror suddenly leapt into the mugger's eyes, and he spun on his heels and took off staggering down the alleyway.

"That's right!" Stan shouted, "You better run!" He then moved to replace the bat in his (very big) back pocket, but froze as a foul, cackling laughter filled the alley...

The Begining

Before you read this, check out this post, for it details the way the story will work. Once you've done that, the story starts here:

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Stan got up the table in a fury, leaving the rest of the Board of Directors wondering what exactly his problem was. He grabbed his coat and hat from the coat rack that stood in the corner of the room, and stormed out of the office building, onto the city streets.

As Stan walked down Market Avenue, he knew he had lost his job. His life was over. He had no steady source of income. No way to earn a living. No way to live. As he strolled down the street wondering how he'd pay for his TiVo subscription, Stan reflected on his life. In particular, he reflected on his hat.

It was a black bowler hat, a size 6 3/8, with a feather adorning the side. He had gotten as a gift from Charlie, one of his co-workers. He instantly fell in love with the hat, wearing it everywhere he went. He wore it in the winter, in the summer, in Spain, in Zimbabwe, and with every suit he owned. Stan realized this was a very strange reaction his his part, considering he hated Charlie with all the passion of a nuclear chain reaction.

Stan continued to ponder the times he had spent wearing his hat. But he did not continue for long. Without warning, a trench coat-clad man jumped out in front of Stan, pointing a gun in his general direction. As he shoved the gun to Stan's head, the man demanded...

The Way It Works

This is an experiment inspired by something Sam tried over at his blog. His method, while very clever, was tad bid complex in my opinion. So I'm going to try something else.

And this is the way it works.

Basically, I will begin a narrative, and post it here. I however, will not complete the story.

This is where you come in.

You (should you choose to participate) will add (via email, preferably) another paragraph or so to the story. It can be as long or short as you like.

After a week, I will select my favorite entry, and "officially" add it to the story. Then that week you'll write entries continuing from that point.

The cycle then repeats.

Basically, I write one paragraph, you write another, another person writes a third, etc.

Anyway, here are a few rules for your entries:

1) You can't end the story. And if you choose to do something that would ordinarily end it, you have to write in a way to continue. For example, "A nuclear bomb fell and killed everyone," would not be acceptable. However, "a nuclear bomb fell and killed everyone. Meanwhile, in Zimbabwe..." would be. Basically, you have to give the next person something to work off of.

2) Please refrain from using foul language, please. I won't select anything offensive.

3) Be creative! I like creative entries more than not creative entries. Weirdness helps, too.

That's it! Have fun!