Post by thomasallencummins on Apr 4, 2007 18:41:26 GMT -5
POST ANY STORY OR FICTION THAT COMES TO MIND, THE MORE RIDICULOUS THE BETTER.
I'll begin....
The Object
Lance Uppercut was a man gifted with great wealth, fame and unparalleled good looks. He spent his time moving from one logical place to another, making all the right decisions and doing all the right things. His companies spanned the globe and he was admired and hated by millions of people. One day, after a particularly profitable afternoon, Lance was struck by a spark of inspiration to do something illogical. He immediately dropped what he was doing, cancelled all of his appointments and retired to his luxurious home to set about creating something unique and illogical. He labored for three months in his garage without pause or rest, ignoring every logical thought and feeling that tried to force its way into his mind.
Lance’s companies suffered. His wealth diminished. In the tabloids it was speculated that he Lance Uppercut, idol and icon, must have gone tragically and completely mad. Lance was not aware of the rumors and therefore did not care. His assistants pleaded for him to return to the world of logic but Lance flatly refused and suspended all contact with the outside world until his creation was complete. Lance had found something far more important than wealth or fame or logic. He had found the inspired genius of pure creation.
On one sunny Tuesday morning, Lance finally emerged from his home with the fruit of his labor cradled in his arms like a sleeping infant. The news media swarmed to his estate. Hundreds of reporters and cameras lined the towering iron gates outside Lance’s home. Everyone’s attention was fixed upon Lance as he slowly marched across the lush greenery that sprawled before his huge mansion. He slowly crept toward the crowds while they anxiously awaited his arrival. Lance moved as if he wished to prolong the suspense leading to his revelation, building the excitement to a fever pitch. When he neared the end of his driveway Lance suddenly lurched to a halt only a few feet away from the gathered throngs. The cameras transmitted the event all over the world and clearly revealed the toll Lance’s work had taken on his person. His soiled, brown hair spun down from the top of his head in tight, matted tangles. His red-rimmed eyes were dark, sunken and strained. His clothes clung to the passionate sweat that covered his body as if to proclaim Lance’s creative exertions for all to see.
Then, without a word, Lance lifted his prize up above his head with both hands. A wide grin swept across his bearded face. The crowd gasped in surprise. Millions of eyes were transfixed by the images that were broadcast. Lance stood in utter triumph. His body wavered back and forth from fatigue but the object was clearly visible for all to see. It shown in a radiating glow of utter inventive brilliance that penetrated every living creature that beheld its magnificence and lit a fire of hope and joy within the beating hearts of the world and that fire might never have been quenched were it not for a sudden twist of cosmic irony.
While holding his prize aloft, Lance lost his grip and the object abruptly slipped through his greasy fingers. It shattered upon the hard concrete pavement at his feet. The shards flew outward as if they were being repelled by the savage, crushing loss represented by that one unfortunate act. In an instant the world had been lifted to the greatest heights of true ecstasy and in the next instant humanity was just as suddenly plunged into the deepest and darkest crushing despair.
Soon afterward, war erupted upon the Earth. Whole continents were leveled by a nuclear holocaust that raged until every living creature upon the planet was utterly exterminated. All except Lance who, through contact with the object, had gained practical immortality. He stood silently in the midst of the irradiated wreckage and laughed like a drunken sea lion until the course of the universe finally stumbled and slowly ground to a screeching halt leaving Lance alone in the midst of an unbroken, crepuscular oblivion to contemplate his fate for all eternity.
The End
I'll begin....
The Object
Lance Uppercut was a man gifted with great wealth, fame and unparalleled good looks. He spent his time moving from one logical place to another, making all the right decisions and doing all the right things. His companies spanned the globe and he was admired and hated by millions of people. One day, after a particularly profitable afternoon, Lance was struck by a spark of inspiration to do something illogical. He immediately dropped what he was doing, cancelled all of his appointments and retired to his luxurious home to set about creating something unique and illogical. He labored for three months in his garage without pause or rest, ignoring every logical thought and feeling that tried to force its way into his mind.
Lance’s companies suffered. His wealth diminished. In the tabloids it was speculated that he Lance Uppercut, idol and icon, must have gone tragically and completely mad. Lance was not aware of the rumors and therefore did not care. His assistants pleaded for him to return to the world of logic but Lance flatly refused and suspended all contact with the outside world until his creation was complete. Lance had found something far more important than wealth or fame or logic. He had found the inspired genius of pure creation.
On one sunny Tuesday morning, Lance finally emerged from his home with the fruit of his labor cradled in his arms like a sleeping infant. The news media swarmed to his estate. Hundreds of reporters and cameras lined the towering iron gates outside Lance’s home. Everyone’s attention was fixed upon Lance as he slowly marched across the lush greenery that sprawled before his huge mansion. He slowly crept toward the crowds while they anxiously awaited his arrival. Lance moved as if he wished to prolong the suspense leading to his revelation, building the excitement to a fever pitch. When he neared the end of his driveway Lance suddenly lurched to a halt only a few feet away from the gathered throngs. The cameras transmitted the event all over the world and clearly revealed the toll Lance’s work had taken on his person. His soiled, brown hair spun down from the top of his head in tight, matted tangles. His red-rimmed eyes were dark, sunken and strained. His clothes clung to the passionate sweat that covered his body as if to proclaim Lance’s creative exertions for all to see.
Then, without a word, Lance lifted his prize up above his head with both hands. A wide grin swept across his bearded face. The crowd gasped in surprise. Millions of eyes were transfixed by the images that were broadcast. Lance stood in utter triumph. His body wavered back and forth from fatigue but the object was clearly visible for all to see. It shown in a radiating glow of utter inventive brilliance that penetrated every living creature that beheld its magnificence and lit a fire of hope and joy within the beating hearts of the world and that fire might never have been quenched were it not for a sudden twist of cosmic irony.
While holding his prize aloft, Lance lost his grip and the object abruptly slipped through his greasy fingers. It shattered upon the hard concrete pavement at his feet. The shards flew outward as if they were being repelled by the savage, crushing loss represented by that one unfortunate act. In an instant the world had been lifted to the greatest heights of true ecstasy and in the next instant humanity was just as suddenly plunged into the deepest and darkest crushing despair.
Soon afterward, war erupted upon the Earth. Whole continents were leveled by a nuclear holocaust that raged until every living creature upon the planet was utterly exterminated. All except Lance who, through contact with the object, had gained practical immortality. He stood silently in the midst of the irradiated wreckage and laughed like a drunken sea lion until the course of the universe finally stumbled and slowly ground to a screeching halt leaving Lance alone in the midst of an unbroken, crepuscular oblivion to contemplate his fate for all eternity.
The End
