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Writer's Block (1685 hits)

Category: UberMadness!

Rating: 0.78 on 103 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Labels:

Submitted by Uber Madness 2004 (View user info) at 2004-04-05 08:14:22 EDT


This post is officially part of UberMadness!.

Click here for more information on the rules and restrictions.

Entry 1

"Writer's Block . . . ten miles. You've got to be kidding me."

David Hamilton was immediately intrigued. Ten minutes later, he took the exit that led into the town of Writer's Block, Georgia. It wasn't just the name. David felt pulled toward the town. Perhaps it was an omen. After all, David himself had writer's block. He was going to lose his contract. There was no way around it. He was probably going to get sued, as well.

For years he had been churning out novels and short story collections for Sands Fantasy, Inc. Tales of knights and dragons and fair maidens had been his specialty. And now, after bleeding him dry, they were going to drop him for some young newcomer. Night after night, he had sat in front of his computer and stared at the blank white page glowing on his monitor. After a few hours, he always gave up. He had taken to falling asleep on the recliner in front of TV with a glass in his hand and an empty bottle of Crown Royal on the end table. Shelley would trudge into the living room the next morning, her eyes raw and wet, and fix him with that trusting, hopeful gaze. But David never met that gaze, and eventually she stopped looking at all. One morning he woke and found his luggage by the door.

"You're taking a sabbatical," was all she said.

He hadn't argued. David loaded up the car and started the long drive to their summer home on Tybee Island. He never made it there.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The air was thick, a hot, moist blanket draped over the town of Writer's Block. Small shops lined what must have been Main Street. David thought that every town had a Main Street, whether it was named that or not. A sweet shop, a general store, and a barber shop with a genuine red and white striped pole in the front gave the town an antique feel. He would have thought it all rather quaint, if not for the way the air seemed to hum with a faint vibration of strangeness. It was something he could not put his finger on. It seemed neither bad nor good, just ... weird. And the few townsfolk he saw on this first promenade into town intensified the feeling. David would catch them staring at him out of the corner of his eye, but when he turned to look, they quickly averted their gazes. An old man crossed clear to the other side of the street as he passed. David tried to catch the eye of a woman passing by. She contorted her face into an ill fitting smile, and quickly hurried on.

David had checked into a bed and breakfast owned by the town's apparent matriarch and gossipmonger, Harriet Greene. She had been very eager to tell him all about the citizens of Writer's Block, and at great length. He had barely managed to pry her hooks from him long enough to take this walk.
David stopped in front of the general store. He pushed the stained wood door open a little and heard the faint tinkling of a bell from above. The hairs on the back of his neck stood straight out, and that strange feeling was stronger than ever.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The old man in the rocking chair was the first in town to look him dead in the eye. He wore a straw hat, and a ratty flannel shirt in spite of the heat. A cigarette, half ash, hung from the corner of his mouth. In his hands were a pocketknife and a small piece of wood, half of it carved into the shape of a heron. His beat up boots shifted back and forth, rocking the chair as he whittled away. He rocked and rocked, and David noticed grooves in the floor, worn by the rocker. David thought the lines wrought by the rocker somewhat resembled the two lines between the old man's forehead as he squinted up at him. The man's eyes seemed to measure him, and find him lacking. Nervously, David spoke up.

"Hey there, old timer."

"Hey deyah." The old man continued to stare.

"What's that there? A heron? Beautiful birds, eh?"

"Yeyup."

"So, is this your store? Nice set up you got here."

"I like to think so." (Only the old man pronounced it "I lack ta thank so-ah.")

The old man stared at him for a moment, nodded, and looked back down at his project in hand.

"You decide you gonna buy sumthin' let me know."

"Actually, I was hoping for a little information."

The old man humphed as though this was of little surprise or interest to him.
"'Dat so?"

"Yeah, I was wondering how this town got its name. Seems pretty unusual. I asked Harriet Greene-"

At this the old man humphed again and muttered something incomprehensible.

"-but that seemed to be the one subject she was close-mouthed about."

The old man looked back up at David. His eyes sparkled.

"Shuh, I'll tell ya all 'bout it. How 'bout pullin' up that chayuh thayuh."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Now, this town aint got a lot to be proud of now. But a long time ago, we had sumthin' nobody else could lay claim to. You know what dat was?"

"Uh..."

"Dat was rheterikal, son. Dat means you don' gotta answer."

"Do you mean rhetori-"

"You wanna hear dis or not?"

"Sorry, sorry. Go on, please."

"Anyways, like I's sayin' we had sumthin' nobody else in dis county had. A real-deal, honest ta God, published writer. Not jus' published, but purty famous, to boot. Hank Mather... ever heard tell of 'im?"

"Uh ... no. Sorry."

"You damn kids. Aint none of ya got no culture dese days. Anyway, dis' guy wrote himself a few books, an' moved away. Back den dis' town won't squat. You could walk out yo'house and take a piss off yo' porch, and swear ta God, dat stream 'ed cross da town line. It was small, get mah drift?"

"Yeah."

"Dat was rheterikal, too. Damn, kid. You don't catch on too quick do ya? You ride da special bus when you was a kid?" The man's gaze seemed to appraise him for a moment, his eyes sparkling. "We got a special kid down da street dat eat bugs. You eat bugs, boy?"

"Wha?"

"Talks ta trees too. You talk ta any trees lately, sonny?"

David opened his mouth to answer but was quickly cut off.

"Don' ansuh. Jeez. Back to da story. Back den dis town was called Johnsfeld. Aint got da same ring to it, now does it?" He paused to see if David was going to speak. David sat silent.

"You learnin'. So, anyways, dis Hank Mather, he becomes purty damned known 'round here. Comes to visit every now and den, and we all'd damn near faint when we saw him... dat's right, I was alive back den, dough I was only a littlun. Anyhow, eventually, we get word dat good ole Hank Mather's lost da touch. Eventually we heard dat he'd lost his marbles, too. Marbles or no, none a dat stopped him frum comin' back and buyin' up most of dah town. Nineteen twenty-four, it was. And he decides he's gonna name it after what was plaguin' him, most. Writer's Block."

"Wow, that's interesting."

"Boy, I aint done, and you aint heard nothin' yet. Now dis man decides he's gonna set up a monument right smack dab in da middle a town. A monument to his own dang craziness, I guess. De folks round here all went along with it, God knows why. Maybe dey thought Hank Mather, crazy or no, was needed to put dis place on the map. What is it with people and bein' famous. Love to get a piece of it, don' they, even if it hurts 'em in the long run. Though I feel da same 'bout women."

He chuckled at his own joke, and went on.

"Anyways, dis guy erects dis huge stone cube in the center of town, it looked like marble, but I don' know for shuh. An every damn day, he goes down to de town squayah and carves some new bit o' literatuh on it. You know, quotes from famous writers and such. He was obsessed with it. Even when he'd covered it, he'd go theyah. Day and night, he'd sit in front a dat huge stone block, just starin'. Only left to eat and do his business. He even slept in front of it. Den, one night, twas 'bout fifty years ago I'd say, a little girl looks out her window and sees Hank Mather, standin in front o de block as usual. Only dis time he's got both hands on it, an' he's just a yellin. Shakin' like he's bein' 'lectrocuted. She sees dis bright flash a light, and den, all a da sudden, he's gone. But dat won't da last we heard of Hank Mather. Every year a new book'ud turn up in 'is agent's mailbox. No return address."

"Well, that's certainly an interesting story."

"It aint just a story. Dat girl turned out to be a writer too. After ole Hank disappeared, she took to lookin' at dat block an awful lot. She'd look at it an' smile, like her an' it shared a secret. Ten years ago, she came back to town for the last time. An hour after I saw last saw her, she disappeared. But I'll tell ya, I don't get no evil feelin' offa dat thing. It just seems to draw people. People like you. You a writer, aint ya. It's wrote all over you."

David didn't answer. He was a bit freaked out by the old man's story. He figured the old man was pulling his leg, but this was all just way too weird. He had felt pulled here off the highway. He had felt pulled to this store. Now he felt like he was being pulled a little ways down the street. Toward the center of town. The old man looked at him with secretive eyes.

"It tuggin at you, huh? Go'on. You know you want to. "

David turned, and walked toward the town square. The air was thicker than before. He waded through it like he was treading water. His feet seemed like small anchors.

Finally, he reached the town square. And there it was. A large dark grey block. It was taller than he was, and only slightly less wide. The setting sun cast a strange glow upon it, giving it eerie life. The feeling it invoked was not fear, but curiosity. He moved closer, examining the inscriptions. There were hundreds of them. Some he recognized, some he didn't. The letters H.M. were carved into the bottom, set apart from everything else. Hank Mather. David stared. He stared for hours, looking at the words, feeling there was something there, hiding beneath the obvious. His eyes widened. Something clicked over, and he began to read aloud the words that were hidden within the words.

A few minutes later, a light flashed briefly in the center of Writer's Block, Georgia. It went unnoticed.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Shelley Hamilton blamed herself. Day and night she wandered the house, wondering if her decision to send David to Georgia had been a bad one. She felt that it was, but everyone had been telling her these past few months that it wasn't her fault. How could she have known, they said. She supposed they were right.

This morning had been no different. Here she sat at the breakfast table, pushing the cereal around in the bowl, wondering what had become of her husband.

The bell rang. Shelley shuffled into her bed room slippers and slouched toward the door. She looked out the peephole. An old man stood there. He looked pretty harmless. Shelley opened the door.

"Hey deyah, ma'am. Would you happen ta be Missus Shelley Hamilton?"

"Um, yes, I am." She looked at the old man, curious. He wore an old straw hat, and a tatty flannel shirt, in spite of the summer heat.

"Heyah, I have sumthin for ya."

In his hands he held two things. A book, small, bound in leather. And a small wooden object. She took them. The small piece of wood had been carved into the shape of a heron.

"What's this?"

She opened the small book and on the first page, written in a familiar, bold script was this:
"For my darling wife, Shelley. I beat it. I beat the writer's block. I'm living the story. I owe it to you."

This had to be a joke. She flipped through the pages. One of his Dragonknight Series books. He'd been coming up with these stories since he was a child. But this was new. She had read all of David's books and this was completely unfamiliar. Had he written a new one? How could this be? Where was her husband and why had he not sent word?

A piece of paper was folded up in the book. She took it out and unfolded it. It looked like a rubbing off of some sort of stone, like the kind she had taken of Jim Morrison's grave when they had gone to France. Only this was lines from books and poems. Some she recognized. Others she didn't. Sections of the words were underlined. She spoke them aloud, and the hair stood up on the back of her neck. The odd syllables flowed from her mouth easily, in spite of the fact that they formed no discernible words. She had a sense that they were words, of a sort. A passage on the page that the paper had marked caught her eye:

"David wanted desperately to see his wife. He wanted to hold her in his arms and tell her everything he hadn't told her before being pulled into this place, the world he himself had created. But he knew it could not be. He only hoped she would get the message he had sent. That she would come to him."

Shelley looked up. The old man was gone.

She looked down at the bird. It had words carved in its belly.

WRITER'S BLOCK, GEORGIA.
H.M., 2004.




- VS -


Entry 2

She died at 57, leaving him abandoned after forty years of devoted marriage. He had scraped out a comfortable if meager living for themselves, after he returned from the war, by writing for the city paper and selling stories here and there to various periodicals. They had no children between them, little in the way of personal contacts, and no living relatives. This convergence of factors had combined to leave him as a 64 year old Invisible Man, wholly alone and utterly without hope of ever living with more than the memories of his beloved wife gone.

After a seeming eternity of mourning, he had a run at getting out of his now dusty home and into the brighter sunshine of his future, but found his heart was not at all for it. He tried his hand at writing again, but discovered a most embarrassing case of writer's block. Words, put to page, gave him the impression of poor Rorschach inkblots with no discernable form. He could not construct a coherent sentence, could convey no thought. He wished with all his heart that one day he could be inspired to write again.

It was in this state that the second woman in his life found him. She was a bright, vivacious woman only a few years younger than he, said to be retired from the government service and living off her not insufficient pension. They went together for several months before she surprised him with the astonishing revelation that she was, in fact, still in the employ of the government, actively recruiting retirees and widowers to the cause.

The project had been ongoing for several decades, started after the Great War when King George V realised for himself the political efficacy of utilising persons outside of official channels to perform one of the more unpleasant chores for modern day administrations: assassination. Through the many years of trial and error in the programme, it was eventually and clearly demonstrated that older persons were statistically far less likely to either be suspected or lose their heads entirely at the moment of truth.

He at first recoiled at the idea, but inevitably came to subscribe to another philosophy at the urging of his new friend and confidante. He realised that was suddenly able to travel the world, see the most wondrous sights, and write of them. Perhaps not surprisingly, the change reinvigorated his slumping writing career by allowing him to evolve into an author of travel books.

The memoirs of his experiences in Rome were published to great acclaim, yet he omitted the most thrilling piece of the tale: that he fired a flechette round through the eye of a known unsavoury financier. He wrote of his expedition to Ghana, and left out his role in the elimination of an up-and-coming popular presidential candidate. In fact, he revealed the particulars of these dozens upon dozens of occasions only to his handler, his muse.

His new wife.





Entry 1:
  Ainkara
  Anansie
  Anjie
  antluvdog
  Awko
  beer-turtle
  Bigmike
  BLITZKREIG_BOB
  Chronic
  coley
  Death_Metal_Dude
  Deisangua
  Dr_B_Pittman
  drink_DDT
  Fabish
  Falconer
  fattyakajackie
  fell-8-me
  fionavar
  firefly
  Fleet_Marshall_Badass
  gascs
  Genko
  Gent
  godking
  GreaterThanBest
  hairycoo
  Herpes
  intellismartness
  JinkyWilliams
  JohnGalt
  Judoka
  jwlmar10
  K.M
  littledan
  lizadoolittle
  loki
  Magno
  Melany
  Mr_Insanity
  Papajoe
  Phinch
  polyamorousaj
  psyduck
  quack
  Quartermain
  Razor
  satchel
  Scott_James
  ScoutCJustice
  shadow
  smokymtcsw
  spacemonkey
  spedmonkey
  speeddaimon
  SpikeGoddess
  TaK
  tammy
  Tastycat
  Titinita
  tmofw
  ugaly
  volklcess
  whataefag
  William_Q_Percy
  WillZone
  XtremeMooCow
  Yes
  yidele
  youarsoghey
  YouLookLikeINeedADrink
  Zod

  63 eligible votes (72 total) *

Entry 2:
  Acarnis
  Heimdallsman
  jimbo
  lucid
  MickGinny
  mystiamoon
  NotApologizing
  shark25
  T.chow

  8 eligible votes (9 total) *


* Eligible votes are those made by users who had either (A) posted 3+ messages OR (B) written 100+ [lowered from 750+] reviews as of the beginning of the UberMadness! competition.
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User Reviews


Submitted by bart (user info) at 2004-04-08 02:30:07 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

Wow, I finally got to read this... awesome.

Submitted by JohnGalt (user info) at 2004-04-07 02:28:27 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

The official "Write of Entry 1" fan club starts as soon as I find out who it is.

I've read it around 10 times now...so 1 more +2 before I go to bed.

Submitted by Acarnis (user info) at 2004-04-06 23:58:46 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0

No Comment

Submitted by Fabish (user info) at 2004-04-06 22:12:12 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0

No Comment

Submitted by littledan (user info) at 2004-04-06 17:38:41 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1

1 took it. 2 was a good idea, but could've been done better.

Submitted by psyduck (user info) at 2004-04-06 17:31:39 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

No Comment

Submitted by K.M (user info) at 2004-04-06 16:23:17 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0

No Comment

Submitted by Phinch (user info) at 2004-04-06 13:01:34 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

2 was good, but 1 was awesome

Submitted by TaK (user info) at 2004-04-06 10:31:06 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

Holy fucking shit. I just realized that I think I know
who rote #1. Fucking A.

Submitted by TaK (user info) at 2004-04-06 10:28:06 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

ENTRY 1 KICKED ASS

Submitted by Judoka (user info) at 2004-04-06 08:28:19 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0

No Comment

Submitted by mystiamoon (user info) at 2004-04-06 07:07:01 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0

post 1 reminded of that

john Candy movie where he ended up a character in his own script or soap opera , something like that

Submitted by Death_Metal_Dude (user info) at 2004-04-06 01:22:46 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1

No Comment

Submitted by lizadoolittle (user info) at 2004-04-06 01:03:08 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0

I could actually hear the drawl of the people in this story.

Submitted by Herpes (user info) at 2004-04-06 00:08:32 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0

No Comment

Submitted by Bigmike (user info) at 2004-04-05 22:58:50 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0

One was great. I enjoyed reading one more than I enjoyed writing mine......almost :)

Submitted by fionavar (user info) at 2004-04-05 20:51:50 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

Best post yet!

Submitted by Scott_James (user info) at 2004-04-05 20:41:37 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0

No Comment

Submitted by spedmonkey (user info) at 2004-04-05 20:17:23 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0

creepy.

Submitted by XtremeMooCow (user info) at 2004-04-05 20:14:16 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

No Comment

Submitted by MickGinny (user info) at 2004-04-05 20:13:24 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0

No Comment

Submitted by Genko (user info) at 2004-04-05 20:08:25 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0

No Comment

Submitted by Yes (user info) at 2004-04-05 19:38:56 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

#1 fucking moved me... yeah.

Submitted by Tastycat (user info) at 2004-04-05 19:26:07 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1

No Comment

Submitted by shadow (user info) at 2004-04-05 19:06:58 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0

No Comment

Submitted by quack (user info) at 2004-04-05 17:52:45 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0

no contest.

Submitted by Zod (user info) at 2004-04-05 17:30:10 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0

Maybe its just me, but I thought #1 was great. Very long, yes. But actually worth every sentence, unlike the others.

Submitted by Quartermain (user info) at 2004-04-05 17:20:05 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

No Comment

Submitted by lucid (user info) at 2004-04-05 17:08:24 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0

No Comment

Submitted by ugaly (user info) at 2004-04-05 16:48:10 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0

No Comment

Submitted by spacemonkey (user info) at 2004-04-05 16:45:48 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0

No Comment

Submitted by tmofw (user info) at 2004-04-05 16:37:29 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0

No Comment

Submitted by William_Q_Percy (user info) at 2004-04-05 16:32:27 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0

That's really risky CJ

Submitted by ScoutCJustice (user info) at 2004-04-05 16:23:19 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

Entry 1 is greatness. Great writing, great story it's got everything.

Entry 2 is really lacking... in just about everything. There might be a good idea for a story in there, but what ended up there wasn't it.

Both of you missed the obvious joke here, and I'm dissapointed by that. With a post title Writer's Block just submit a blank post.

Submitted by YouLookLikeINeedADrink (user info) at 2004-04-05 16:16:13 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0

No Comment

Submitted by gascs (user info) at 2004-04-05 16:09:37 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1

Entry #2 could have been so much more.

Submitted by Mr_Insanity (user info) at 2004-04-05 16:08:44 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0

No Comment

Submitted by JinkyWilliams (user info) at 2004-04-05 16:00:31 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0

No Comment

Submitted by Anansie (user info) at 2004-04-05 15:46:25 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0

No, he's not. He's really not.

Submitted by jimbo (user info) at 2004-04-05 15:42:11 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0

What a blowout. Author 2 sucks. He's the suckiest suck whoever sucked a suck.


Submitted by Melany (user info) at 2004-04-05 15:39:05 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1

No Comment

Submitted by Anansie (user info) at 2004-04-05 15:21:09 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

Entry 2 is really quite good.

Submitted by coley (user info) at 2004-04-05 15:02:12 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

Submitted by drink_DDT (user info) at 2004-04-05 08:36:07 (#)
Ranking: 2

Awwww shit, entry two just got PWN3D!

Hey person who wrote entry one, your style reminds me a lot of Stephen King's style. Before he started writing all crap.
____________________________________________________
I agree..ol' Steve-o is my favorite author, so that's a really big compliment.

Submitted by coley (user info) at 2004-04-05 14:59:58 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

No Comment

Submitted by GreaterThanBest (user info) at 2004-04-05 14:32:38 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0

No Comment

Submitted by T.chow (user info) at 2004-04-05 14:24:38 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0

No Comment

Submitted by firefly (user info) at 2004-04-05 14:02:03 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0

No Comment

Submitted by satchel (user info) at 2004-04-05 13:48:36 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0

No Comment

Submitted by godking (user info) at 2004-04-05 13:47:59 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0

No Comment

Submitted by Papajoe (user info) at 2004-04-05 13:33:40 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

Good story, very involved.

Submitted by William_Q_Percy (user info) at 2004-04-05 13:33:25 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

Wow...

Very impressive

Submitted by Falconer (user info) at 2004-04-05 13:33:08 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

Entry 2 was a little too short, and Entry 1 was hugely original and great, so it was a bit of a no contest.

Submitted by beer-turtle (user info) at 2004-04-05 13:12:35 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0

No Comment

Submitted by Heimdallsman (user info) at 2004-04-05 13:03:38 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0

No Comment

Submitted by whataefag (user info) at 2004-04-05 12:42:18 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1

loved the first one, hated the second. easy choice.

Submitted by Gent (user info) at 2004-04-05 12:38:39 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1

Reading dialect is hard, but you did a pretty good job with it. Good story.

Submitted by volklcess (user info) at 2004-04-05 12:24:56 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0

No Comment

Submitted by jimbo (user info) at 2004-04-05 12:19:33 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0

My wife still likes me.


Submitted by BLITZKREIG_BOB (user info) at 2004-04-05 12:16:48 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

#2 needed to be developed a bit more.

Submitted by loki (user info) at 2004-04-05 12:04:36 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0

No Comment

Submitted by fell-8-me (user info) at 2004-04-05 11:57:58 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1

No Comment

Submitted by NotApologizing (user info) at 2004-04-05 11:56:53 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0

No Comment

Submitted by Anjie (user info) at 2004-04-05 11:48:38 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0

No Comment

Submitted by JohnGalt (user info) at 2004-04-05 11:47:14 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

Submitted by jwlmar10 (user info) at 2004-04-05 11:27:32 (#)
Ranking: 2

I'm sensing a blowout.

-----------

And deservedly so. Nothing against Post 2 (which might could have won against some of the other entries), but Post 1 is freakin' awesome. My favorite so far. I feel bad for whoever wrote Post 2. You ran into the literary equivalent of the UNC women's soccer team, or the UCLA basketball team of the late 60's and early 70's, the De La Salle High School football team, the..well you get the picture.

Submitted by Dr_B_Pittman (user info) at 2004-04-05 11:46:20 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0

No Comment

Submitted by jwlmar10 (user info) at 2004-04-05 11:27:32 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

I'm sensing a blowout.

Submitted by Anansie (user info) at 2004-04-05 11:25:35 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0

No Comment

Submitted by Razor (user info) at 2004-04-05 11:24:07 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0

jimbo - huh?

Submitted by speeddaimon (user info) at 2004-04-05 11:19:39 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0

Thus far I have been disappointed, neither of them seemed all that inspired, but one was well constructed and kept my attention even if the ending seemed to lag a bit behind the rest of the story.

Submitted by shark25 (user info) at 2004-04-05 10:59:44 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0

I like old people killing

Submitted by tammy (user info) at 2004-04-05 10:50:31 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1

No Comment

Submitted by jimbo (user info) at 2004-04-05 10:44:01 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0

Jeremy, are you just fucking with me now?


Submitted by fattyakajackie (user info) at 2004-04-05 10:43:43 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

No Comment

Submitted by Deisangua (user info) at 2004-04-05 10:42:49 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0

No Comment

Submitted by jimbo (user info) at 2004-04-05 10:41:49 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0

I think it's too early to call.


Submitted by Razor (user info) at 2004-04-05 10:40:47 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

I'm guessing that entry 1 is loki, but I don't know foah shoah.

Submitted by jimbo (user info) at 2004-04-05 10:39:47 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0

You're a funny guy, Will.


Submitted by WillZone (user info) at 2004-04-05 10:34:35 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1

Did jimbo write #2...as he is the lone voter right now?

Submitted by Razor (user info) at 2004-04-05 10:30:31 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

Entry 1 - Hell yeah!

Submitted by antluvdog (user info) at 2004-04-05 10:29:52 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

I know who wrote Entry #1 and now I know why it was so good.

Submitted by Magno (user info) at 2004-04-05 10:21:15 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0

No Comment

Submitted by youarsoghey (user info) at 2004-04-05 09:59:53 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0

Well, whoever wrote the second one should know that I also got a completely shitty first round matchup. I wrote one of the best things I think I've ever done, but lo...

Seedings are seedings I suppose, and it's not like I have tons of posts to show how I can write.

Submitted by JohnGalt (user info) at 2004-04-05 09:59:35 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

Entry 1 was awesome!

Submitted by jimbo (user info) at 2004-04-05 09:57:20 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0

Me too.


Submitted by youarsoghey (user info) at 2004-04-05 09:39:16 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

I think I know who the authors are.

Submitted by polyamorousaj (user info) at 2004-04-05 09:36:22 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

No Comment

Submitted by youarsoghey (user info) at 2004-04-05 09:34:13 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

Great story, number 1. Good showing, number 2.

Submitted by youarsoghey (user info) at 2004-04-05 09:33:50 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

Great story, number 1. Good showing, number 2.

Submitted by Titinita (user info) at 2004-04-05 09:15:35 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0

No Comment

Submitted by Fleet_Marshall_Badass (user info) at 2004-04-05 09:02:15 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

Awesome. Simply awesome.

Badass.

Submitted by intellismartness (user info) at 2004-04-05 08:58:00 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0

Number one felt like a novel.

I don't mean that in a bad way, just an observation.

Submitted by SpikeGoddess (user info) at 2004-04-05 08:56:33 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0

No Comment

Submitted by Ainkara (user info) at 2004-04-05 08:50:24 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

I really liked this. Held my attention right till the end. (#1)

Submitted by yidele (user info) at 2004-04-05 08:48:56 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0

tough choice, but i liked the dialogue better

Submitted by hairycoo (user info) at 2004-04-05 08:48:04 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0

tough draw number 2

Submitted by antluvdog (user info) at 2004-04-05 08:42:26 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0

Jesus Christ. We have some good fucking writers on this site.

Submitted by Chronic (user info) at 2004-04-05 08:39:06 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1

No Comment

Submitted by Random Joe at 2004-04-05 08:38:43 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1

No Comment

Submitted by drink_DDT (user info) at 2004-04-05 08:36:07 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

Awwww shit, entry two just got PWN3D!

Hey person who wrote entry one, your style reminds me a lot of Stephen King's style. Before he started writing all crap.

Submitted by smokymtcsw (user info) at 2004-04-05 08:31:49 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

No Comment

Submitted by WillZone (user info) at 2004-04-05 08:27:01 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1

#1...jest cause.

Submitted by Awko (user info) at 2004-04-05 08:26:20 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

No Comment

Submitted by jimbo (user info) at 2004-04-05 08:17:24 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0

No Comment


Homer: The secret ingredient is --

Moe: Homer, no!

Homer: Cough syrup! Nothing but plain, ordinary, over-the-counter
children's cough syrup!

Flaming Moe's