- Keep posting to just story additions (We know that you probably want to talk about the name we're using for the main character, why some people that can't dance still think they can, or ideas for establishing world peace through sharing flan recipes - post those comments to the "Run on Story: Comments" post above.)
- 3 posts a piece
- No more than 10 sentences per post
- Anything goes (but keep it clean)
Let the storying begin...
Thrown from a moving vehicle is no way to start a day, but what choice did Chuckles have? He awoke to find himself flying through the crisp air as the sunlight, peaking from behind the distant hills, jabbed at his big brown eyes.
The ground turned out to be harder than it looked through his blurred vision - at least that's what his bare arms told him. He managed to roll to his side in time to watch a black, 2007 Volkswagen Bettle speed away. Not that it mattered that he saw it, there was no license plate and the windows were so dark that Chuckles thought for a split second that if the night drove a car it might look something like that - provided it was a trendy German night, of course.
Chuckles lay still for exactly 47 seconds, tested his legs and arms, then sat up. Something was on his back; it was a backpack, but not his. Dragging himself from the gutter, Chuckles pulled himself onto the sidewalk and started to go through the backpack for some clue as to what was going on. The first thing he pulled out was a egg salad sandwich...
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, which he ate ravenously. There may have been more important things to think about, but he couldn't help it; he was a sucker for egg salad sandwiches and he was starving.
After devouring the sandwich, he peered into the backpack to see what other surprises he might find. He thought to himself, "I wouldn't mind finding a bottle of Sarsaparilla root beer right about now. It would accompany my egg-salad-sandwich- aftertaste just right." To his disappointment, he didn't find a bottle of root beer, but he did find a Mountain Cooler Capri Sun.
Had someone thoughtfully packed him a lunch before using him as a projectile? It didn't seem likely, considering the character of the group he had just had the pleasure of leaving. This fear was confirmed when he reached into the backpack again and pulled out...
Kimberly, I still havn't been invited to see your blog. I guess I know what that means. Sob
… a coloring book. He turned away in disgust when he opened it to find that someone had colored outside of the lines.
But it was what he hadn’t pull out of the bag that would end up making the biggest difference in his day.
It was then that Chuckles noticed several police cars flying down the street toward where he sat. He was very excited when the cars squealed to a stop all around him – he had never been so close to a “bust” before. He couldn’t wait to see who the cops were after, until he realized that the guns were all pointing at him.
"Don't move and put your hands up!" one of the policemen barked. Chuckles let go of the backpack and lifted his hands into the air. As he did so, the backpack fell open and a soccer ball rolled out.
"How had I not noticed that was in there?" thought Chuckles.
"Step away from the soccer ball." barked the policeman again.
Chuckles stepped away slowly and began to look around at the crowd of policemen as one stepped forward and swiftly picked up the ball. Chuckles was beginning to calm down after the initial shock of being surrounded by policemen. Now he peered curiously at the barechested, Hawaiian-flowered-swim-short-wearing men hudled around him. They didn't look like policemen, except for the handlebar mustaches, the donuts in their left hands, and the guns in their right. But they did have police cars with flashing lights and sirens.
"Let's get out of here," said one one handlebar-mustached policeman to the others, "I think we've scared him enough that he and his buddies will think twice before messing with our beach soccer tournament again. Some clowns they were!" With that, the policemen jumped in their cars and raced off as quickly as they had come.
Once again, Chuckes was alone on the sidewalk. He kicked the backpack out of frustration and stamped on the coloring book before half-heartedly raising his thumb.
Things were becoming clearer now. The last thing he remembered was being picked up late last night by a black, 2007 Volkswagen Beetle stuffed with more clowns than one would think could fit in a Beetle. He had opted to sleep in the trunk. Lot of good that ride did him. He was without transportation again, he didn't know where he was, and what's worse is, he didn't even have clean pants anymore after the scare with the policemen.
"I don't know where I want to be, but it isn't here," thought Chuckles, so he lifted his thumb a little higher and waited for his next ride.
Ok Brother - it's not much of an ending, but it sort of ties things up. At least now I feel like it's done. See you soon!! :)
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