Foonkerpop. Improv Story.

Good Morning/Afternoon/Evening/Night(whichever one it is in your part of the world),

Hi! I'm here to leave a quick review!!

Anyway let's get right to it,

See. An average sized teenager and his average sized room. A boy representing the mysterious stain on the bedspread in the motel of life. A delinquint. See thirty six beer bottles. Some empty, most spilled. A sprawling man shaped mess wet from the night before. Soaking in regret.

See a hangover.

Day-Quil, Advil, Crest, Listerine.

Water, Tropicana, Aunt Jemima, Sunkist.

The bus ride sucks. So does drinking on a Tuesday night. So does throwing up in a potted plant and peeing in a slipper. Friends suck too. So do their girlfriends. So does whoever invented beer.

It didn't suck last night though. Neither did the shots. Neither did the pot. Neither did the cartoons.

Music, pot-stop-cigarette.

Outside, cigarette-stop-beer.

TV, beer-pot-beer-beer-beer-beer-...

Don't remind me. Never gonna drink again, swear to god. Learned my lesson.

Front of the bus. First one off. Smoke before class. Not today. Aunt Jemima is a vengeful bitch. Where's the boy's room.

THANK YOU!
I actually read that Terry Prachett admited that Douglas Adams was a big influence on his storys.

I'm indescribably flattered zelithon. A thousand thank yous are due in your direction. I think Pratchett was before Douglas Adams though, so its' hard to say whois impersonating whom. I'd like to beleve they are simply similar because they are both english authors.
Dopnt worry about following me around, friend. I will keep posting foonkerpop here for your ease. You, my bigeest fan. . take care.

That what if i told you the devil was a girl bit was great! It sounds more like someone besides Terry Prachett now. Terry Prachett is really just a Douglas Adams impersinater anyway. You have a unque voice. And I will follow you around the web like a dog. You are my favorate writer on this sight.
Woof!

EDIT: I cant seem to go on your myspace; are you sure you typed it in right?

Haha, I guess thats a compliment., Thank you very much. I will post the rest of Foonker far, but for the rest I suggest you check out Urbis.com or my myspace page at http://www.myspace.com/triplesm. Cheers.

------
When I looked up from the envelope, the devil’s advocate was gone. He did, however, leave a light green oozy trail which I followed intinctively. It led nowhere. At least my emotion were back and intact. I was pissed.
-----------
The lost boy wandered along the sea of clouds absent-mindedly. Whenever he began to speculate as to what was actually keeping him on top of the clouds, he would start to sink. After a few experiments, he decided he’d much rather not find out what was below the clouds.
--------
The birds were gone and that pissed me off. The smell of pie had been replaced by the putred stench of sewage and expired ham and that pissed me off and made me feel sick. The naked girls were gone, an upon realising that was the moment I thought about giving up. I didn’t know if it was just a cruel joke to tell me to follow signs that didn’t exist…..Well, yeah I knew, it was hell after all.
“Fuck this! Lucifer, I’m pretty sure you can here me! Get the fuck up here!”

Silence followed this outburst. Then there was a rumbling…

----------
What if I told you that the devil was a woman. What if I told you that she was stunningly beautiful, save for the massive bloody horns and jagged teeth. What if I told you that though her skin was blood red, she had one of the nicest bodies I had ever laid eyes on.

Would you believe me?

You shouldn’t, cause I’m a bullshitter.

The devil was a big ugly mess of a freak. He stood some thirteen feet tall, but I hadn’t been able to judge his size until he had completley arisen from the cloud-sea.
He was every stereo-type and more. He had fangs, and a pointy tail, and hairy goats legs, and black eyes, and a long beard, and red skin. The only thing that I found odd, and unexpected from him was his voice.

It sounded like he had inhaled thirty balloons worth of helium.

“So,” he squeeked. “What’s your name kid?”
“Tyler,” I confessed. “What’s it to ya, long tall and ugly?”
The devil laughed at that. It sounded like someone trampling on a room full of mice – squeek! squeek! wheez! squeek!
“You’re funny,” He said. “But this isn’t time for jokes!” The devil’s voice suddenly boomed and, though still high pitched, rang throughout my very bones. He grew several more feet…no miles! high, and soon he was all I could see.

The sky was red with the devils body as he reached down one massive clawed hand and picked my up by wrapping me in his fist…

You are a terry prachett impersonater, and doing such a good job I am skeptical you are not him. Post more!

I think you missed this important quote:
"If we went to hell and saw fire, and devils with pitchforks stabbing people in the rump, we would hardly be surprised, and where would the fun be for the devil in that?
It is much more satisfying to see us surprised, then extactic, the deliriously joyfull, and THEN stab us in the ass with a pitchfork." - Hell is vurry vurry bad. Worse, even then you could possibly fathom.
But get used to it, cause its our new setting hehehehe.
-----
The thing in the suit and cap asked me what my name was, and I told him. He turned his briefcase on its side, and it hovered there in mid air. After snapping it open and ruffling through some paper for a while he exclaimed, "A-ha!" and closed it again. The briefcase obediently sank down and settled neatly on the clouds.

"You don't belong here." He said to me, as if it was news.
"I get that. I'm starting to think I don't belong anywhere."
"I don't quite understand, this has never happened before." The suited demon looked over the piece of paper once again before looking at me, smiling, and igniting it, causing it to burn and dissapear. "I'm going to try something, now, okay?"

There wasn't even the slightest response from me, before the demon had pulled a sleek silver blade out of thin air and heaved it in a whistling arc severing my head from my neck.

My head remained attached.

"Hey, you tried to kill me!"
"You're already dead kid! Come on, get with the program. Here." He handed me a letter.
"What's this?"
"Its a letter."
"Yeah, thanks, but who is it for."
"You really aren't that swift are you boy? Read the damn envelope."

I read the envelope, a little embarrased at my stupid question. The envelope was blank except for one name written in ancient looking cursive: Lucifer.

"What do I do with this?"
"Follow those signs, take it to the devil. I think he's the only one who's gonna know what to do with you."
"What's wrong with me? Why can't I belong anywhere?"

"It's not that there is something wrong with you," the demon began. "In fact, I think there might be far too much RIGHT with you."

Is Hell good? Or is his eyes still closed?

After sitting on what felt like clouds for a few moments I finally told my brian to shut the fuck up, and slowly opened one eye.
It was clouds! All around me, spreading off in a pearly white expanse, was what seemed like endless amounts of cloud. Scattered throughout the scene were blue birds, flying around with ribbon in their beaks, apple pies with angel wings swirling absent-fillingly around, and a few naked chicks for good measure.

"Holy shit, paint me pink and call me Sally!" I thought to myself, as I took in the scene before me.
"Far from holy, m'boy." A voice shot back at me; though mysterioulsy, still within the confines of my own skull.

Ooooh I want to know what Hell looks like!!

- another long wait for this update, im sorry, I'm going to hop back on the regular train with these stories of mine. If a couple care to read em that is.....--


Hear that same sound, only reversed. I know, it sounded better on the way out.
As I took in what my senses (save for my sight; everything is dark) were telling me, my brain fought to deny any fact to the matter.

Hell smelt like apple pies. Not just one, or a couple either. My nose was telling me that there were safely at least a hundred pies all around me. If I could only open my eyes to see them. TO behold such home cooked pleasures.

My bum meets softly with the ground and I feel it with my palm. Soft. Like pillows made of sheep (Okay bad a analogy).
If only I could look at what I'm sitting on.

My brain keeps shouting at me in waves, "You don't want to open your eyes! Its not how it seems!"
But it is so tempting. I can hear the same chirps and warbles of the birds which I heard the day I died. I can also hear far off singing, it is melodical and heave---....

"Don't think it!" My mind cries out. "For all that is sacred, do not finish that thought! Hell only seems to be pleasant. Your senses are lying to you! Even if you did open your eyes. You would see everything you would love to see in heaven, only, the moment you felt secure, it would be ripped away from you like a blanket from a child!"

I began to understand.

If we went to hell and saw fire, and devils with pitchforks stabbing people in the rump, we would hardly be surprised, and where would the fun be for the devil in that?
It is much more satisfying to see us surprised, then extactic, the deliriously joyfull, and THEN stab us in the ass with a pitchfork.

I don't think I'm going to like it here much.
"You got that right!" My mind yelled back.

I sat down on a log. The Grim Reaper was beside me. He had to be. This is because I willed him to be there.
I explained to "him" that I wanted to try my other option, because I had a feeling."

"A feeling?"
"You don't know what that is eh?"
"Actually, I am sure I know plenty more than you about it. I'm just not familiar with that word."
"Well you feel pain. And you feel happy. And you feel sick. You feel tired. You feel guilty. You feel angry. You get it?"
"Ah, that has a lot to do with stuff sloshing around in glands. Not much time for it, myself."
"In Limbo I wasnt supposed to feel anything, but I felt like I didn't belong there."
"And you want to give hell a go?"
"It cant be much worse than that place."
"We'll see."

The tall black figure beside me stood up. After snapping his bony fingers, the world dropped away and there was a sound like water draining out of a sink. Or a wet fart.

-Been a while since I entered something new. Enjoy -


In Limbo the people greatly resemble Lemmings.
Oh how I long to once again stumble drunk like a loose shopping cart wheels, spinning on axis' that would make a planet cringe as I teetered almost over.
Here in Limbo we are all the same. Shuffling and falling. Climbing and shuffling. Falling and sinking. Swimming and walking.
There are only a few of us on the ocean floor. I was washed out with the tide one night. I was too passive to stop myself.

I shrugged off my inner dialogue.

There was ground to cover.

In Limbo we are all meaningless. Unless you can find meaning in our pointless existance. Unless we fail to exist whatsoever. That's probobly how it is.
My speculations are poorly grounded and have no intellectual merit.

I need to get out of here. I'm not supposed to feel anything, yet I feel awkwardly like I do not belong. Even amongst the monotonous drone of Limbo, I shine and shuffle with border-line grace.

"I need to get out of here."

of course

Nope I've never done this before. But I'm starting a new one too. It will be somewhat "normal". So look otu for that one too m'lady.

Hmm, that's really interesting. So have you done this before? It's really cool.

I awoke the next morning sick to my stomach.
Only I didn't feel sick.

I went downstairs and my family was gone. I had some Orange Juice.
It had no taste.

I looked at the digital clock and it it read 00:01.
I thought I should be surprised, but I wasn't.
I shrugged my shoulders ( a gesture I would soon get quite used to).

I went outside because I couldn't think of anything else to do.
The sun was directly above the world, but everything was shady.
I looked around my neighbourhood. Everybody was shuffling along slowly, staring at their feet.

I went up to the nearest person.

"What is this." My voice was monotonous, where was the question mark?
"What is what." The girl I stopped looked at me. Or through me. It would have looked the same.
"I mean, whats going on."
"Go away."

She shuffled past me.

I shrugged my shoulders and started shuffling myself. I had no idea at the time, but I was shuffling myself off a cliff.

Love it!

"You look skinny and sick, boy."
"I could say the same to you."
"Cute."

The Grim Reaper "looked" at me and appeared to nod his "head".

"Am I really dead?" I said.
"Dead as a door knob, so they say."

I stared down at my body, and the Reaper laid an icy "hand" on my back.

"It's not so bad, really." He "said".
"Easy for you to..." I stopped myself.
"Wise choice. Now then, shall we?"
"Where are we going?"
"Where do you want to go?"
"Ummm, Heaven?" I ventured.
"Hmm," The Reaper took a book with my name on it out of his black robe and flipped through with a bony "hand". "That seems unlikely." He "said".

I frowned and slouched. I couldn't really be surprised. I was pretty bad in my life, that, and its hard to be surprised when you are dead.

"What other choices do I have then?"
"Hell, or Limbo."
"What's Limbo?"
"Nothingness, actually. It seems a lot like this world, only you'll walk around emotionless for all eternity. Unable to sleep, or find any pleasure in life. And don't even think that getting drunk will get you drunk. Anything you found pleasure in your past life, will, well, never bring you pleasure again."
"You make it sound so nice." I said sarcastically.
"I've been told I should sell used cars."
"And Hell?"
"Torture, pain, excrusiating experiments being attempted on you every hour of every day."
"I guess I'll take Limbo, then."

I think The Reaper tried to smile underneath his hood.
"Most do." He "said".

He died!

Please keep going!

Haha, no math test indeed



People say that when you die, you see a light at the end of a tunnel.

Our life is indeed a path. And at the end of that path is indefinately a clearing.
But that clearing is dark. And forboding. And evil. And as equally menacing as it is terrifying.

Nobody really knows this, but the moment you die, the afterlife comes at you like a bus.

There was certainly no light. Not really darkness either.
Darkness is merely the absence of light. What I saw was anti-light. The pigment that lurked far beyond the absence of light. The pigment of death.

Death ain't so bad I guess. We'll see what he makes of me.

Yeah that's true.

At least he doesn't need to worry about his maths test

Wow, okay I can't think of anything to say (which is pretty unusual). Very cool I like it, alot.

I'm not trying to stick to any style whatsoever. From first to third and back again, I care not.
The story will change like my moods and the seasons.
And oh yes. He dies

Paint a perfect picture.
A handsome young man fresh from a good nights rest. His loving family and their economical routine based morning. See the consumption of countless name brands.
Paint a perfect picture.

"Did you study for your math test?"

Orange juice is spit across the table. The sprayee is wide eyed and exasperated.

"I totally forgot!"
"Surprise surprise."
"I'll be fine, its all review anyways."
"Your life, do what you want."

Our protagonist finishes his breakfast, flips his nupsack on, and scoots out the door, skateboard in hand.

Paint a perfect picture.
Glorious summer days complimented by the chorus of birdsong and the olfactory stimulation of a thousand pollinated flowers. The same handsome young man skateboarding at breakneck speeds down the sidewalk, weaving through pedestrian traffic and ollieing garbage cans.
See a bus that he does not see.
It's too late.
Paint a perfect picture.

Very interesting. Also, intensely readable, since it's so short.

I just have one nitpick...

For the first entry, you started out in third person and moved on to first. It was kind of... sudden.

Heehee...

Wait... He dies?! O.o

Hurry up with the next bit then!

I arrived to an empty house. Not entirely empty, just free of any other life.

"Hullo?" I ventured.

Nothing.

I shrugged my shoulders and went directly to the fridge.

Old Pizza, Salad Kit, Beer, Eggs, Buns, O J, Some Chicken, MYsterious Brown Stuff (could be Hummus), Assorted Veggies and Fruit, Yesterday's mashed potatoes.

In other words...Nothing Good.

I got high and played video games for the rest of the night.
If I only knew then that I was going to die the next day.

Thanks everyone......



Knock. Nothing.
Knock. The sound of a person getting up off the couch.
Knock Knock.
"I'm coming. Relax!"

"Shit, man. You're a sight for sore eyes!"
"Ya ya, can I come in?"
"Sure thing. You okay?" He makes way for me and lets me in his house.
"Ohh, man. This A/C is just what I need right now."

- Air Conditioning is my artificial shade. "Artifically chilled air" is a really really good phrase, I heard it somewhere once. Whoever said it was a bad sentence is an idiot.-

"Yeah, I'd be dead without it. What your problem eh?"
"I'm just hungover. I need to hit a show."
"You came to the right place."
"I know that."

Plastic baggy, green bud, scissors, papers, roll it, filter, lighter, moment of truth.

The smoke filled my lungs and I immediately felt one hundred times better.
As my eyes glazed over, and my red blood cells danced around like fraternal party-goers, I sunk into the leather couch and let the Television take me away.

Brak Show, joint-Hawaiian Punch.
MXC, bong-grilled cheese.

"I gotta go home for dinner dude."
"K."
"Got a twenty bag?"
"Yeah, sure."
"Thanks, peace."
"Peace."

Hmm... I like it...

It's odd, but most definitely original. I think my favourite line was about why the library had to stay so quiet if people weren't going to sleep there. Hee hee.

My girlfriend stood up and left me there.
I guess she didn't like the shade afterall. She can preach to me all she wants about the necessity of an education.
I ain't havin any of it.

Well. The day is young, and the sun is shining, the birds are chirping, and the kites are flying.
Think I'll swing by Matties, see if hes got any dope.

As the young man steps out from the shade, time speeds back up. The birds counter-adjust to the shift by freezing for a split second. The child on the bicycle zips past in a seemingly super-human fashion. Of course, it wasn't. Only in comparison to the shade. He takes a deep breath and starts walking.

His shadow trails behind him like melted blackboard. All slithery and distorted from the heat waves off the sidewalk.

I need some shade.

Like I said before, that is pretty good. Infact it great! Carry on as you amy, I'm going to keep on reading!

K very cool weird but cool i agree with everyone it new.

I ran to the dry cleaners and hid there for twenty minutes. Then I climbed out and went to the Arcade.

Street Fighter, Silent Scope - nachos & cheese, root beer - Time Crisis, Tekken.

Outta cash.

Its friggin hot out today. I'm even sweating standing in the shade. I like the shade. The shade is an escape from the harsh sunny glares of reality. Time slows down in the shade. Birds fly slower in the shade. In the shade, as my body temperature cools, my mind comes out of hiding, and I let it go off on its own. The shade is my reprieve.

Sometimes real life needs to give it a rest and let the shade do all the work.
Everyone would have a lot more fun if they lightened up and adjusted their values.
I don't know so much what I value anymore.
I let the shade work for me.

"Hey, can I sit beside you?"

Someone else has found the shade.

"Of course"

A cute female no less.

"Why you sittin here by yourself?"
"I dunno, s'been a long day."
"Tell me about it."
"Hangover."
"On a Wednesday?"
"On a Wednesday."
"Aw, poor baby."
"Ya ya, laugh it up. I don't think I'm going back to school."
"I don't blame you, its hot, and schools almost over anyway."
"I mean, ever."
"Huh?"
"I mean, I'm never going back to school."

Yeah it wasn't really intentional. I can't really say anything im writing on this story is intentional, hehe.
But I'm not going back to change the periods, the essence of improv story is: there is no editing.
I will try not to let it happen again. BUT, if you want an explanation, I can also improvise one of those (see below)

I wanted to leave the periods out because in my minds eye, I am picturing the action taking place in a sort of retrospective trance that the main character is experiencing. The bits of conversation are only appearing in flashes, so it is unclear to the reader whether they are sections of conversation, or entire sentences in themselves.

haha. that was fun.

Cliffhanger resolved!


Here he comes. A tankard of a man. A man whose stare burns holes in people's minds. A man, who if encountered in a dark allwy, would pull you limb from limb in a heartbeat. A man who has no heartbeat.

"Smoke! NOW!"
"S'been a while Bulk, though I'd never..GURK!"
"'Nuff small talk. Hook up a smoke, or I bash your face to smitherines."
"See the thing is...Could you put me down first?"
" (insert incomprehensible grunting noise here) "
"Thanks..As I was saying, Bulk, the thing is..."
"GAAAHHHH!"

I dunno why I kicked him in the balls. I guess it was the only possible way I thought I could survive at the time. I don't doubt that it was.
But I really wish I could stop running.

Park, Sidewalk, Post Office, Park, Ball Diamond, Shopping Mall.

Shit he can run fast for a whale sized human!
Thought I lost him when he tripped over the mannequin in the lingere section.
Persistant bugger.
Can't stop though. Not unless I wanna die.

Oh well, another good reason to never go back to school.
1. Useless information
2. Brainiacs
3. Hangovers...oh wait, thats not one.
4. And bullies.

What was school good for in the first place?

Oooh, cliffhanger.
The style of this, to reiterate, is definately original and creative.
Slight nitpick: I didn't like that you left off periods at the end of someone speaking. I don't know whether that was intentional or not, just curious. Other than that, you're pretty good at the improv thing. Can't wait to see more!

Apparantly you can't sleep in the library. Then why do they need it so quiet?
Books are a waste of time, far as I'm concerned.
They say the first page of the bible is perfect for rolling joints.
Wonder if that's true.

"Ya ya, I'm leavin'"
"You can't bring food in here either!"
"Don't worry I don't plan on coming back."

That place was nice, save for the books, and brainiacs.

I think I can handle a smoke now.

Reach in pocket. Take out pack. Grab a cigarette. Light the cigarette. Take a drag.

All of a sudden...

I definitely agree with Rei and Muse. It's very original and I hope you keep going. I haven't really seen anything like that before, but it's cool.

There was gum on the underside of my desk in second period.
There was a lot of experiments going on in science.
There was lots of hooting and hollering.
I was feeling sick again.
The smells were like burning cat.

There was four people in my group. All grade A student.
I'm a C grade student. Shut up, it wasnt the booze.

I've learned my lesson.

"You've got to do something, man."
"Shove off"
"The teacher wants a report"
"Report this"
"Don't give me the finger!"

Hangovers suck. These kids are desperate to impress. I'm desperate to sleep. Brainiacs suck.
End of second.

Water-stop for breath-more water-more Advil.

Hey that is pretty good!! I like...

Carry on!!

i agree completely with rei. Nice and original. It's what i like to see!

Thanks!

I'm walking out of the bathroom. I feel okay now. The bell rings, but my teacher doesn't care if im late. I'll be fine. God my mouth is dry.

Pepsi. Doritoes.

"You're late."
"Sorry."
"S'okay, at least you're here."
"Got that right"
"Rough night last night?"
"Sorry teach, I'm not at liberty to say."
"Take your seat"
"Yessir"
"Finish your food outside first!"

First period dragged along like a caveman's knuckles. I remembered nothing. Sometimes school is a waste of time.

Pretty darn good. Got my attention right away. Style is unique, and works really well. I love the sentence fragments. Really makes it feel like you're inside the character's head.