Sweet Pete Posted April 2, 2015 Share Posted April 2, 2015 Let's collaborate together on a novel. Post a paragraph below the preceding poster's paragraph and we'll see how it goes. I've spoken to Teckle Books and he's promised me that once the thread reaches a certain number of pages he will publish the results.* *may not actually be true. I'll get us started: Geoff Jefferies was a quiet, unassuming man. His life had, until now, been unremarkable. Sitting that day in his cramped office in Yarm, he could not have foreseen the events which were soon to derail his dreary suburban existence. The day had started much like any other, eating breakfast in his two bedroom semi that morning, his idiot son had shambled into the kitchen wearing odd shoes. "Oh, Phil!" his wife, Georgina, had scolded their only child, a 32 year old man whose sole achievement to date had been obtaining a customer service job at a local builder's merchant. Geoff had tried to raise the boy as best he could, tried to mould him to be a hardworking, diligent man in his own image, but his efforts were hopeless. He had even tried to convince the boy to join the military some years previous, even going so far as to arrange him a meeting with Sergeant Wilson at the local recruitment office, but, as usual, Phil had shown up late, unshaven and complaining and the interview had been a disastr like so many before... Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
deadasdillinger Posted April 2, 2015 Share Posted April 2, 2015 Geoff then put Phil's willy in his mouth and ate it, while doing a jobby on Georgina's tits. Then they all died. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
sjc Posted April 2, 2015 Share Posted April 2, 2015 The End. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Estragon Posted April 2, 2015 Share Posted April 2, 2015 It was another non-descript morning at Yarm Police Station. McNeill had turned up late as usual, and clean-shaven for a change. As he wandered into his office - a big change from the bustling hive of activity he'd left in Glasgow - he expected another day of wild accusations from the locals surrounding the possibility that Polish immigrants were stealing household pets, and breaking into lockers at the local leisure centre. He was wrong....very wrong. "There's been an incident at the Jefferies house sir...". The normally chirpy D.S. Morley was chalk white. "For the last time Morley, it's a plumber they need for that kind of thing - not the police!" "You don't understand sir....it's...they're all...it's happened again sir..." Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
deadasdillinger Posted April 2, 2015 Share Posted April 2, 2015 McNeill stuck finger up Morley's dirty poo-poo bum. They ate some pubes. Then died in 9/11. The end. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Sweet Pete Posted April 2, 2015 Author Share Posted April 2, 2015 If that's the quality of your wit then I'm glad I didn't buy your book. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
deadasdillinger Posted April 2, 2015 Share Posted April 2, 2015 If that's the quality of your wit then I'm glad I didn't buy your book. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
The Other Foot Posted April 2, 2015 Share Posted April 2, 2015 Can I suggest that instead of quotation marks, we use italics? It's very David Mitchell, and therefore very chic. For example: Twenty minutes later, McNeill was balancing on the face of a toppled garden gnome, peering into the kitchen window of the Jefferies' modest residence. The once-proud Geoff Jefferies - doyen of Yarm's administrative legions, master-baker, proficient cricketer, civil servant extraordinaire - was dancing around an upturned washing machine, smashing it to pieces with his famed ash-wood cricket bat, wearing nothing but a Glasgow Rangers football shirt. Georgina Jefferies, once the back-to-back winner of the Greater Yarm Area's beauty pageant contest in the 80s, now resembled the gunk-crusted surface of a dirty waffle-iron. Around her neck was draped a tattered scarf, it's blues and reds and whites flashing evilly past the window as she followed her husband, occasionally giving the ailing washing machine a middle-fingered salute. No...no it can't be, McNeill said to himself, feeling the bile lurch and gurgle in his mid-section. They've gone mad. They've lost their goddamn minds! Whit's that yer sayin', big man? The voice was twisted, frigid, embodying the type of primeval pain that must have accompanied the mortar wails in the trenches of the Somme. McNeill turned on the gnome, his ankle twisting, his body jarring sideways. He found himself on his back, gazing into the crack-veined face of the Jefferies' gardener. The face was familiar. Too familiar. Ally? Sss...Super Ally?! he managed to say, before everything went black. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
cappiecat Posted April 2, 2015 Share Posted April 2, 2015 This book needs a dark twist, how about a weird stalker? 'Hartin Mardie was besotted, some might even say obsessed...' Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
D.A.F.C Posted April 2, 2015 Share Posted April 2, 2015 Douglas had to poop, his butt was all stinky because he had to poop so badly. There was a gross woman named Rebecca who was sunbathing all naked and she was fat. Douglas walked up to her and said, "I need to poop". "Okay, Rebecca replied, "I like poop". Douglas squatted down over the fat sunbathing lady and went poop. The poop sat there on Rebecca's boobs, looking like a weiner. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
deadasdillinger Posted April 2, 2015 Share Posted April 2, 2015 Douglas had to poop, his butt was all stinky because he had to poop so badly. There was a gross woman named Rebecca who was sunbathing all naked and she was fat. Douglas walked up to her and said, "I need to poop". "Okay, Rebecca replied, "I like poop". Douglas squatted down over the fat sunbathing lady and went poop. The poop sat there on Rebecca's boobs, looking like a weiner. Hope you don't have a book for imminent publication that you're hoping Sweet Pete will buy... Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Alert Mongoose Posted April 2, 2015 Share Posted April 2, 2015 Is this auto-biographical...? Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Alert Mongoose Posted April 2, 2015 Share Posted April 2, 2015 The dove posed poignantly in the fir tree at the bottom of the garden. It KNEW something. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
energyzone Posted April 2, 2015 Share Posted April 2, 2015 "What's that?" Jeremy asked urgently. The silvery moonlight slanted steadily through the silent sky. "Nothing" rasped the voice. It was harsh and Jeremy shuddered as he heard it. It seemed familiar to him, but he couldn't place it. It sounded slightly like Bob - a man he had once knew in a previous life. "Is that you Bob?" Jeremy asked, peering into the gloom ahead as he tried to see where the man was standing. "No" replied the unseen man. "I'm the Dove from the previous paragraph. And it's time for you to die". Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
DigOutYourSoul Posted April 3, 2015 Share Posted April 3, 2015 Jeremy panicked, had Bob sent this killer to his home? Jeremy realised he'd been a little out of hand after a few too many Venoms on pool night last Thursday. But sending a killer Dove to his home this late at night, he didn't deserve this. Jeremy had to think, and he had to think fast. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
ForzaDundee Posted April 3, 2015 Share Posted April 3, 2015 Yer dugs got tits. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Gareth_Glasgow Posted April 3, 2015 Share Posted April 3, 2015 9/11 Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
mizfit Posted April 3, 2015 Share Posted April 3, 2015 Jeremy became enraged, flabbergasted at the fact he had an enemy he walked into a hotel and punched some poor bugger in the chops. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Geronimo Posted April 3, 2015 Share Posted April 3, 2015 It was the day his grandmother exploded. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
superwellfan Posted April 3, 2015 Share Posted April 3, 2015 Geoffrey Jeffries snapped out of his psychotic haze just long enough to offer McNeill a cup of tea. McNeill did not answer. Unbeknownst to McNeil, the freshly consumed penis of Philip Jeffries' lay lurking in his father's chest cavity. 'Do you know, McNeill, that the odds of me finding a wife with the same first three letters of our forenames must be astronomical?' McNeill did not know how to respond to such an irrelevant statement, especially as the pungent waft of Geoffrey's freshly squeezed jobby permeated every cubic inch of the kitchen and blood squirted profusely from where Philip's penis used to be as his unconscious body lay neatly, almost too neatly, beside the heavily feces ridden body of his mother. 'Black and two su...' Geoffrey got as far as uttering before Philip's regenerated penis, which had quadrupled in size, exploded from his chest and attacked the bamboozled face of McNeill. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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