The Death and Death of Hungry Storytelling Bob
Once when Vimpy was young and naive, she decided that her allegories needed invigoration. Packing together her stationery and quill, leaving her numerous admirers behind, she set out to find someone--or perhaps something--to spice up her imagination.
After weeks became more weeks, without food or more food, she felt chipper about possibly tapping into the spirit of Hungry Storytelling Bob. Bob, that dastardly dead deceiver, was dead, but Vimpy knew his stories could never resurrect her unless she resurrected him first.
Consequently, the first thing she wrote when she contacted the ghost of Bob was, "Tell me how I can become an allegorist like Hungry Storytelling You." Then she was startled by the sound of a belly expanding with ghostly inhalation, followed by terrible laughter.
"PUNY POETASTER. YOU DARE PETITION HUNGRY STORYTELLING ME? I AM DEAD BECAUSE I WAS TOO AWESOME TO ANSWER ANYBODY'S STUPID FACE WITH CIVILITY. YOUR FACE MERELY AMUSES ME SO MUCH THAT I LAUGH. HA HA HA YOU FOOLISH FACE-FACE, I LAUGH IN UPPERCASE. HA HA." The ghost trailed awkwardly into silence.
Blinking, Vimpy pondered this monologue with some reserve. Clearly, Hungry Storytelling Bob was insane. Could this be itself a source of his insightfulness? His charm? His flawless "spice"? Or was it in the way hunger clarified and honed his tongue?
Fear coursed through her, fear, fear! She cried, "Stop laughing at such faces as mine! And by all means, stay dead!" Then she went home and ate her fill of food.
THE ALLEGORICAL END.
Wednesday, November 19, 2014
Vimpy
Andy just reminded me of this magnificent thing. Way back in 2007, I got bored and challenged him to a game where we wrote a story together by taking turns saying one word at a time. The result was seven times as amazing as it was stupid.
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