One sentence at a time...

These stories were written by a group of friends from 2001-2004. One person would write a sentence and pass the paper to the next person. After the second person added a sentence, they folded the paper so that only their sentence was visible before passing it on.

What happens to a plot when each author only knows the preceding sentence? It is a world of barley, Marble disease, and an inordinate number of people named Bob. Enjoy.

Tuesday, November 9, 2010

It was the longest hour of my life.

I couldn’t wait to see the games for the Gamecube!

I heard they were stupid.

But everyone is stupid compared to the infinite wisdom of Xena!

Stupid and ignorant and hyperactive.

Silly and narrowminded and stinky as well.

What a stench, that should be illegal.

Holly put your arms down! That smell is horrible!

It smelt of rusted barley.

A smell of nutrition and health.

Along with it came the foul stench of youth.

Eww, stinky youth, put some deodorant on!

Then he fell over…dead!

But the Grim Reaper was on a coffee break.

He ordered an expresso, extra-black with lots of sugar.

Then he had an Italian soda.

A grape one, of course, with whipping cream.

The cream was very mean and whipped Kelly.

And Kelly died a horrible, horrible death.

But then he was resurrected, and he became supreme god of Russia. The end.

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