Difference between revisions of "The Story"
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== Chapter Two == | == Chapter Two == | ||
| − | As that | + | As that lucky kitten, named Lucky ironically, paw-footed by Dee was in her usual full-flow rant about Buttercups and, because she'd had a couple of drinks, Jaffa Cakes. |
| + | |||
| + | Daisy and Lucky debated politik for a good half hour, exchanging many a rhetoric among their frivolous debate. However, before long Unlucky the Militant Hamster turned up and laid into Lucky and Dee with his AK-47. The tattered remains of the happy debators lay, turning the ground crimson with their spilt blood, and slowly the garden turned to the browned wasteland of despair. | ||
| + | |||
| + | Emma woke up, sweating, damp against the stained fabric of the sofa. The red dawn of the post-industrial suburbs creeped through the gaps in the fraying curtains, patterning the far wall's peeling paper. | ||
| + | |||
| + | The air was humid. She stood in the centre of the room, arms aloft, shaking off the nightmarish vision of the hamster, teeth gritted, pumping his machine-gun's clip into the innocent flower and kitten. | ||
Revision as of 20:45, 11 March 2006
TO BE EDITED BY BOX OFFICE STAFF ONLY
In the days of the old box office computer there was a word document containing a story that was traditionally appended to by the (bored) box office staff.
Now, the high tech online version!
Click edit at the top of the screen!
Chapter One
In the beginning there was a daisy. A daisy like no other daisy, because this daisy had the ability to converse with small cats. The bounds of this particular power were peculiarly specific. For instance, a feline of 2' or less would be comprehensible, whilst a moggy of more than 2'1" would be entirely oblivious to the daisy's ranting. Lucky for the daisy, who by the way was called Daisy or Dee to her friends, a kitten of just this description was passing by.
First Interuption
In days of yore, when the box office story was young, it was also interesting...
Chapter Two
As that lucky kitten, named Lucky ironically, paw-footed by Dee was in her usual full-flow rant about Buttercups and, because she'd had a couple of drinks, Jaffa Cakes.
Daisy and Lucky debated politik for a good half hour, exchanging many a rhetoric among their frivolous debate. However, before long Unlucky the Militant Hamster turned up and laid into Lucky and Dee with his AK-47. The tattered remains of the happy debators lay, turning the ground crimson with their spilt blood, and slowly the garden turned to the browned wasteland of despair.
Emma woke up, sweating, damp against the stained fabric of the sofa. The red dawn of the post-industrial suburbs creeped through the gaps in the fraying curtains, patterning the far wall's peeling paper.
The air was humid. She stood in the centre of the room, arms aloft, shaking off the nightmarish vision of the hamster, teeth gritted, pumping his machine-gun's clip into the innocent flower and kitten.
