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August 15, 2007


Today's stories should be a dialog among no fewer than three people. You must use only dialog. No descriptions, no flavor text. Not even so much as a "he said."

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Jim: Love On The Rocks

“You can’t do this to me! I’m a Belt citizen.”

“Shut up, you! Here’s another one, Sarge.”

“What charge, Trooper?”

“Unlicensed brothel inside Sappho.”

“Hey! You can’t talk that way about my nieces! They’re all nice girls.”

“I said to shut up! Here’s my report.”

“Hmmm. Looks like there’s a lot of racial diversity in your family.”

“My uncles got around.”

“That wasn’t a question. But here’s one. How do you explain the sex androids?”

“Er… Personal use?”

“And the ones programmed for mutant physiques?”

“I want to talk to a lawyer.”

“I figured you would. Lock him up, Trooper.”

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Jeff R.: Meta

"Interesting. But how would distinguish the speakers?"


"That may overestimate the reader's intelligence."

"Well, you could give them each heavy accents and write in dialect."

"How gauche. One might as well use html tags to give each speaker a unique font or color."

"Hey, wait, guys, we've got the entire wrong questions here."

"How so?"

"Yes, explain yourself."

"See, a dialog's a conversation between two people. With three of us, it's something else. A trialog?"


"Hey, don't bite my head off. Figuratively speaking."

"Come here, Andy."

"Okay, I guess...Gah!"

"Jesus, what a mess."

"If only he'd specified 'literally'..."

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Ted: Invitation to the Compound

"Are you sure that she is the one, babe?"

"If you are willing, I'm willing, honey. But do you think she's ready to share that? We have known her for years, but really, we have seen her in person for only a handful of days. What if she turns us down?"

"What if I turn you down for what? I heard you up here, and, um, overheard you two talking through the door."

"Dammit, now I'm gonna blush! I haven't blushed since the Celia incident in ninth grade."

"I'll ask it then. Can you give us your strawberry wine recipe?"

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David: Radio Days

“Oh, dear. Excuse me, sir and madam, am I late for the train?”

“No. Look, down the tracks, there. You can see the train puffing along as clearly as I see my husband standing beside me in his tweed coat.”

“I must concur with my beautiful wife. As I lean out over the tracks, I can plainly make out the engine. And lo! I also hear the chugging that must indicate its imminent arrival.”

“By my bushy red mustache, you’re right! Thank the gods we won’t have to stand out in this thunderstorm much longer, with its lightning and thunder.”

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