I feel lonely tonight. Take pity on me and tell me a story?

[Connonym]

[Skittles]

1. it all started when I was ten

oh gawd, not that story

[Adsos Letter]

2. Well there's strange things done 'neath the midnight sun...

...but the strangest I ever did see,

was the night on the barge at Lake LaFarge

when we cremated Sam McGee...

:D

[Connonym]

3. Your mocking cuts me to the quick

:-P Don't leave me hanging, tell me something good!

[Adsos Letter]

6. Mocking? My most esteemed Connonym...

...those were the openings to a most famous Robert Service story.

It actually turns out fine because, in the end, they go to check on ol' Sam McGee and he tells 'em to shut the door (of the boiler) because it is the first time he's been warm since arriving in the Klondike...

Robert Service, "The Cremation of Sam McGee" (he was from Tennessee)...Great story.

My Grandpa used to recite it from memory every Thanksgiving.

:D

[Writer]

4. Once upon a time, a young boy named George found a powerful sword.

"I'm gonna win wit' this one!" he said, swinging the blade recklessly, knocking the pitchers and canisters off of his mother's countertops.

"Oh, look at my little George," said his mother, Barbara, while sipping tea with her friend, Lynne. "He's certainly come a long way, hasn't he?"

Lynne nodded, cringing somewhat, sipping her bitter tea while watching the boy hack into an expensive antique chair.

"I'm gonna make mah-self king! King of the world!" George said, rolling about the floor until all three heard a knock on the door.

"My heavens," said Barbara, lifting her rotund ass out of the chair, "I wonder who that might be?"

Barbara opened the door. A horde of average Americans crashed through the door, knocking her down beneath it, their feet stamping across it like it were a foot bridge. Lynne managed to hide behind the couch, witnessing the coming bloodletting.

Grabbing little George, the horde beat him senseless until the wailing stopped, stabbed him with the sword, then pinned him up by his own fingernails on the wallpaper. George's tongue waggled out of his mouth like a stuck pig, his eyes widened, aghast.

The horde left, victorious. The world breathed a sigh of relief.

-The End.-

[Connonym]

5. now that's what I'm talking about!

[Writer]

8. I can write more...

Once upon a time, a young boy named George decided to ride his mountain bike with a group of reporters.

"Hey, look at me!" he said, while sliding about, scuffing dirt into the air, choking the reporters' throats. "I'm the bestest mountain biker out there. Catch me if you can! Hehe (wheeze!) hehehe."

George kicked his foot onto the pedal then dashed for the end of the dirt road. One of the reporters yelled, "Little George! Little George! We can't keep up with you. Slow down!"

George smirked, his sneer long and puerile. "I told ya I'm the bestest, most fastest mountain biker out there!"

But as George reached the end of the dirt road, he encountered a horde of average Americans. They flipped him off his bike, dragged him through the dirt, beat him until the wailing stopped, then hung him from a pine bough by his taint. His tongue waggled out of his mouth like a stuck pig, his eyes wide, aghast.

The horde of average Americans and the reporters left, victorious. The world breathed a sigh of relief.

-The End-

[jeff30997]

7. Too bad time-machine don't exist!

:)

[NanceGreggs]

9. My mother and her five brothers ...

... grew up in Brooklyn, NY. The five boys used to play stickball in the street with the other neighborhood kids - the fire hydrant was first base, Mrs. Sommers' stoop was second base, and so on.

The guy who owned the candy store on the corner got tired of all the noise outside his establishment, and posted a big tin sign on the side of his building that said Positively NO ball playing allowed.

It was immediately decided that hitting the sign dead-on constituted a home run.

After a while, the sign got so bent from being hit with balls, it started to make a loud clanging noise that reverberated inside the candy store every time it was struck. This sent the irate owner out of his store and around the corner, where he would berate the local hooligans for disturbing his customers.

It didn't take long for the kids to realize that a home run paid off big time. While the owner was busy lecturing everyone around the corner, there was plenty of time for a few of the players to slip into his store, fill their pockets with loads of penny candy, and escape without detection.

My grandparents lived in that same Brooklyn apartment long after my uncles were married men with kids of their own - and they never took any of their own kids to that candy store without pointing to the beat-up tin sign and telling that story.

And now I've told it to you. Hope it gave you a smile on a lonely evening.

[Connonym]

10. thanks :) it did make me smile

[NanceGreggs]

11. I'm glad it did.

My bizarro family history is so full of stories like that, it's like a book that writes itself.

Which is why I've never written a book about it - because after all these years, I'm still waiting for it to write itself.

But I WILL collect the royalties when its published.

[krispos42]

12. My bad day, Thursday before last

Bad:

So after my company's annual hearing test (it's a factory), my boss tells me to go across the street with a forklift and pick up three pallets of blanks. Now, we just recently moved into this location from a Twin Cities suburb, and this is the first time I'm doing this.

So, I grab a little warehouse forklift, cross the street to our supplier, pick up a pallet, and start to bring it back.

On the way back, on the side of the street, the six boxes of stainless-steel blanks vibrate over and over until two of them, still shrinkwrapped, fall off onto the street. This is not the bad part.

Quickly, I turn off the forklift, cut the shrinkwrap off, and heave the boxes (125 pounds each) back onto the pallet, and resume my trip.

In the parking lot, almost inside, and two of the boxes fall off again. This time, with the shrinkwrap off, they tip over on their sides and spill 200 blanks onto the asphalt. CRASH!!! Tinkle tinkle thinkle, etc., etc., etc. Two hundred 8" stainless steel tubes, 2" outside diameter and 1/8" wall thickness. Clattering to the pavement and against each other.


Worse:

This occured in front of the two night shift supervisor, one of which is my immediate boss. The guy who moves up with the rest of us from the aforementioned suburb. Two years, I've known him. And they are both staring at me.

Worst:

I look out at the glittering field of stainless steel. I sigh, turn off the forklift again, and wearily get down and start to pick up the blanks.

My boss, about 25 yards away with the other supervisor, yells out to me "You know, they're trying to do a hearing test!"

I look over at the trailer, which I was in just 10 minutes ago and was a scant ten feet from the drop zone, and say the only thing I can say.... "Of course they are. Of COURSE they are."

And they I picked up and repackaged 199 blanks. I found #200 on my way to pick up the 2nd and 3rd pallets. The six guys inside the trailer made sure to thank me on their way out from the testing.