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February 14, 2007

2.14.07

Oh, please. It's Valentine's Day. Whatever I say, you're going to write love stories.

Okay, fine. Grab a book somewhere near you. Open to page 47. Include the first word you see that grabs your fancy. Somehow indicate the word used.

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Stacy: Nothing Like Love

“Damn, honey, you’re a good kisser,” he breathed, brushing back her platinum blonde hair. They’d only just met, but what the hell, he’d rub one out with her and be home before midnight.

‘Yes, I am,” she said, her crimson lips sliding back to reveal abnormally long canines. She grabbed a handful of hair and yanked his head back. She slid her fangs into his jugular… or would have if the kevlar implants under the skin hadn’t turned them aside. She looked astonished as the stake slid into her heart.

“Should’ve played nice,” he muttered as she crumbled to dust.

Read more from Stacy's .

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Jim: Way Before Match.com

Appearances matter, especially when you’re trying to make a good impression.

Gorgg knew this instinctively. This was fortunate because Gorgg’s brain was really not large enough to wrap around such multi-syllabic concepts as ‘appearance’ or ‘impression’ or even ‘especially’.

So Gorgg spent most of the morning working on his looks. Many rats died, some drained so that his tusks would be that special dried-blood brown that matched his eyes so well.

He assembled the remaining rats into a loose bunch and stood ready to present them for whenever the new ogress finally decided to come out of her fetid cave.

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Jeff R.: Not Just the Erasers...

Mr. Carter (5th grade homeroom, History) and Mrs. Tanner (4th grade homeroom, Mathematics, Music), both trapped in profoundly unhappy marriages, began a particularly torrid affair after discovering that the school was virtually abandoned after hours, during detention. The kids could simply be locked into a classroom and forgotten for two hours.

This left the logistical problem of finding a suitable surface on which to do the deed. The floors were unspeakbly vile already; the desks uncomfortably small. This left the blackboard, flipped halfway around. And with stacks of books underneath, but not quite touching, making them work at staying balanced.

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David: "Escape"

Piña coladas, check.

Getting caught in the rain, sure.

Making love at midnight on the dunes of the cape? Damn straight.

I reread the newspaper clipping as I sat in O’Malley’s waiting for my blind date to arrive. We met through the personals. If my old lady ever found out what I was up to—

The bell on the door rang. I turned to look, and knew her instantly.

“Oh, it’s you,” said my old lady as she sat down next to me.

“Yeah, wacky, huh?” We both laughed for a moment.

She’s going to kill me in my sleep.

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Tanya: Untitled

She’d always had a thing for the cello. The sound, the size, the way it fit between the legs. And she had a thing for cellists. She snuggled now against the Symphony’s brand new first chair, blankets crumpled, his hair still slightly damp with sweat.

She smiled at him, enrapt, as he relived the evening. She watched the sparkle in his eyes and heard the pride in his talent, as he recalled the performance and the ovations.

“My first night. Did you hear how they cheered for me? The way they called from their seats for more?”

“Encore,” she whispered.

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