See the original Plurk conversation here!
Many thanks to: Tenebrous, Loaf, GingerSho, rotemu, rheta, spiderkitten, shockwave, michaelcela, jjacek, MadameMaracas, gabbypanacek, BigMonkey, thraxis, CoyotePace, Eladrienne, (and me!).
Once upon a time, in
Plurkland, some folks conspired to
write a five word story,
which starts with the words
“Once upon a time, in
Plurkland,” some folks conspired to
write a non-recursive story
but failed miserably, as suddenly
and to that end, we
were ginormous doof balls who
have nothing better to do
than write stories about ourselves
in a 5 word format,
when we should be working
out how best to make
a million dollars just by
plurking and blogging and then
taking a nap. Speaking of
napping, I need to get
a fish and go to
the bicycle store to buy
a tank to put them
inside for our battle against
cuttlefish invaders of the north!
The vicious cuttlefish have been
building a stronghold in the
nearby warehouse where they have
stockpiled large amounts of green
plasma, krill in salt water,
and several pairs of old
breeches, coated with a strange
yet delicious layer of meringue
which attracts many flies, from
big flies to small flies.
A knock on the door
distracts everyone from the flies.
The door opens abruptly, revealing
nothing. The door shuts again
and a large BOOM is
seen, microphone swaying wildly, as
grips & best boys scramble,
the boom operator keels over,
tipping the dolly cart over
and ruining the whole shot.
"CUT" shouted the A.D.,
making the foley artist cringe.
“(Odd that they're on set)”
said jjacek in parenthesis, wondering
where the fourth wall went,
as a whole world opens
up, revealing that it was
little more than a badly
written parody of real life
mired in confusion, puns and
strangely out of place characters,
yet somehow finding humor in
life is always important,
the masses of vicious cuttlefish
observed as they ransacked and
wrote a five word story
with some help from a
man in a green leotard
covered in white question marks
known as The Riddler, who
cackled maniacally, prancing about while
wearing a raw tuna fish,
the scent of which attracted
many large, hairy, purple
otters bent upon world domination!
Meanwhile, in another part of
the story, verbs languished unused.
Perhaps we should write a
handwritten letter of condolence to
the mayor, stating that we
keep writing the story anyway,
whether or not its cohesive
because it is great fun
and always seems to end,
especially when the robots arrive,
laser beams a'firing, stomping down.
"Oh no! I've been hit!"
cried a passerby, falling down!
The robots stomped on the
otters, leaving purple fuzzy smears
all over the road. It
started to rain, bleeding purple
which went into the drains
and dripped down on the
rats congregated at the opening
who were anxious for fresh
performance of the Otter Orchestra's
toccata and fugue in five
minutes after finding a suitable
bass fiddle, flute & tuba
playing aardvark, which was not
an easy task, as you
find they want more money
to buy off marauding cuttlefish.
The multi-talented aardvark population
wondered if it was time
to see what the cuttlefish
on top of that tiny
echindeas were gathering, preparing to
storm the beaches of France.
but the waves were rough
so they all gave up
and started a new story!
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