Sean ran behind a barricade which up until that week had been the side wall to a proper house not to far from the Cinderella Castle Poppy Palace. A buzz of bullets raced by him as he crouched down beside the injured soldier. Weeks of intensive training in the manmade jungles of the Floridian panhandle living off of dandelions and cooking freshly killed prey had barely prepared him for Afghanistan. If anything, Eglin Air Force Base was a resort compared to this. Hours of mind numbing boredom baking in the unforgiving sun often preceding what seemed like weeks of heart racing combat. In the near distance, he could hear explosions and screaming though he could not make out the words of the enemy combatants. He long ago learned to mentally ‘step out’ of himself when nursing injured American soldiers so as to not be overcome by fear for his own personal safety. He’s ok. I’ve got him. He’ll be ok.
It was 12 noon on a sunny day, so when the sky immediately darkened it was only natural that everyone, enemy and ally look upward. For miles around the arid, rocky landscape darkened as if covered by a huge rainstorm. The object appeared to be at least 30 miles in diameter, and appeared almost like the submerged upside down peak of a glacier. It had a reddish tint, and made absolutely no noise as it descended slowly from the sky, still higher than where clouds would be (if ever there were clouds in this place.)
That day, not a gunshot was heard for miles.



The humid, oily, blackness of the Floridian night started to turn midnight blue, signaling the start of the first day of the rest of Christian’s life. He could still taste the smoky marijuana from the guy he brought home from the club sprawled out on his bed. Well, not exactly his bed. It was his grandma’s bed, and she would be back today around noon. Spike, or whatever this guy’s name was, had to go. It started off as a regular evening—he had gone to the Parthenon, a gothic-techno-eighties-retro mega club with some friends, but ended up sneaking out from there a few block north on Tampa Ave past the notorious dive, The Hub, on to a club known as the Millennium. There, Prince once performed during his symbol years which was one of the few times the Millennium was not packed with 99% gay men looking for love, sex, or their next drug score. Is that Ass? Am I tasting ass??
Though it was only a secret to Christian, as all his friends knew by now, he was a closeted gay man who had not had a sexual encounter with another male before. Maybe it was the ecstasy, maybe it was the heat, or just pure boredom, but he finally worked up the courage to explore this side of him, the results of which the poor guy really didn’t know if he liked or not. The taste of the smoke just wouldn’t go away, and even though he had just taken a quick marine style shower, he imagined he could still smell Spike's rancid, sweaty ass. Shit, sucking dick was hard! The act of giving a blowjob was probably the most surprising thing to him. It was laborious as hell! Having spent what seemed like hours sucking Spike off, while trying not to gag, and being as careful as he could not to scrape the penis in his mouth with his teeth, Christian felt almost as if it was more trouble than it was worth. The thrill and nervous anticipation of taking Spike back to his Grandma’s house became almost an intensive exercise in dick sucking patience. I really need a mint.
He looked out from the front porch onto the landscape of Riverview, Florida barely able to make out the forest in front of him. Grandma Gretchen used to tell him her creepy, ancients stories, like the days, back in 1937 when the state of Florida, consumed with its second “Tick Scare” ordered that all domesticated dogs, and wild animals (including the now endangered Florida deer) shot on site. His now deceased grandfather made a small fortune, at 80 dollars a mouth, selling deer carcasses to the State government. These of course were the happy stories, god forbid his grandmother was in the mood to discuss what happened before her time to the Seminole Indians.

The sky had turned a riot of blue and orange when he saw his Grandma’s Cadillac turning onto their street. “Oh fucking shit!” Christian ran into the master bedroom, “dude, get the fuck up.”
“Whoa” Spike murmured only half understanding what Christian was saying.
“Get the fuck up right now!” Christian whispered frantically as he realized the entire room was a wreck. What the fuck did we do last night?

Spike did get up. And they both did get dressed, though just in time to meet her at the door.
“Hi Grandma”, Christian said, let me get your bags for you.
“Who are you?” She asked the young man standing before her.
She turned around to look at Christian who was already grabbing crap out of her trunk when the sky turned dark again.
That morning, their old world died, and it perished with the giant orb in the sky, the acrid taste of cigarettes, marijuana, and Spike's sweaty ass.



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[Edited 7/12/07 19:34pm]

I think you should change "some gum" to "a mint". If your jaw is sore, you don't want to start chewing.

CarrieMpls said:

changed!

Yuk dandelions.

2the9s said:

I modeled Spike after you.

Actually, is a mint strong enough to get rid of the taste of Marijuana and Sweaty ass?


I always ate a chicken sandwich to get rid of any unpleasant lingering tastes from smoke-mouth.

Imago said:

If you're gonna eat a chicken sandwich you may as well have assy pot breath.

How about a mojito?

CarrieMpls said:

Actually, you know I really like this story idea.

What if the world stood still. HOw does that affect everyone's individual chaotic lives? How do they deal with that? Do they just drop everything? How does that happen?

Hmm. Maybe I start a blogspot page and get input.

I need to clean this intro up, beef it up, correct the grammar, and make it more graphic.

Actually this would be great "Prince fiction" thread in the other forum.
I just need to change a few names around.

Grandma becomes Pattie Labelle of course.

Imago said:

ok, I was serious about the mint thing, though. I have mild TMJ so NEVER chew gum. Especially when my jaw is sore.

As for the rest, it seems a little busy. You're trying to fit in too much at once. Slow down.


Interesting idea...

Is this one of those threads where we all have to continue writing the story?

Cause I have some nifty ideas about a group dance number in Mumbai...

CarrieMpls said:

Thanks. Noted!


I would love to figure out a way to make Spike the "surprise" central character.

Like start the first half of the story with a bunch of major characters dealing with this new thing in their lives.

Then in the middle of the book, go through an exhaustive backstory on Spike, even though he seems to be the "Forest Gump" in the story, and make him out out being the man character on the journey. Whatever that journey is.


Shit Carrie, you're gonna be my partner in crime with your ideas!!!!

2the9s said:

Actually, if you could write a scene where they are filming a group dance number that gets disrupted by this giant thing in the sky, that would be brilliant.

Imago said:

wow, its too late to be on here

Imago said:

I'm a better editor than idea-come-up-with-er. You write it, I'll tell you how to make it better. lol.

CarrieMpls said:

Fucking deal!

If I get published I'll cut you in! Maybe that will justify that pink non-Goth toy you just bought!

Imago said:

It's not even being shipped till the 23rd.

:hah @ Carrie's post

CarrieMpls said:

What office Suite is on it?

Imago said:

at Imago's :hah

Imago said:

oh, I don't even know. I think it's just MS Works.

other than how it gives me an almost overwhelming urge to start editing it in Word, I like it.

In a behind the scene vote we took, I drew the short straw and was so charged with "bumping" this thread.

I hope you're happy.
.
[Edited 7/12/07 21:12pm]

Imago said:

Stax said:

Is that a laugh of familiarity

Imago said:

come on, man. my dank can't be masked by a mere sandwich.

Stax said:

and again