A Made-Up Story

Okay, from the beginning now...

It was a dark and stormy night. Hannah Parkinson and Willy Smote were walking in the woods, pondering the stars when Willy suddenly stopped and looked deep into Hannah's eyes.

"You know that I love you, right?" The girl hesitated in surprise, but than she answered "Of course I do. What question is that?"

"I have a confession to make", said he...
 
... "I am actually a frog."

"What!"

"Yes I'm afraid it's true. A wicked witch casted a spell on me and turned me into a human. Now I am forever separated from frogland and from the frog princess whom I loved."

"But that's terrible!" Hannah cried. "Only ... if you hadn't been turned into a human, I would have never met you."

"That's true," said Willy, "You would have only heard me croaking in the evening."

"But," said Hannah, "that princess frog whom you loved ..."

"I know, I know, and I miss her very much. But now I am torn because I've fallen in love with you. What am I to do?"

"Well, is there any way to break the spell?"

"Yes, the kiss of true love. No frog would want to kiss me, but you could kiss me and change me back."

"Oh dear, Willy. I want to help you, but I don't want to lose you either. What am I to do?"

"There's only one answer Hannah. You must never ever kiss me, because I don't want to lose you."

"But I want to kiss you, that's what lovers do!"

"I know, but you and I must never kiss."

"Can we have sex?"

"Yes," said Willy, "as long as we don't actually kiss."

"Well ..." Hannah bit her lip. "I don't know. A kiss sounds really nice right about now."

"No, Hannah, don't do it! I don't want to lose you. It's not worth it ..."

But Hannah knew Willy rightfully belonged in the kingdom of the frogs. Surely if she loved him, she must love him enough to let him go! and tonight was a perfect night ... it was so dark and stormy, the stars were out and the leaves were crunching under their feet. Surely one little kiss wouldn't hurt?

"What if I kissed you on the cheek?" she asked.

"Hmmm," he replied. "I don't know what would happen. A kiss on the lips would turn me back into a frog for sure. But a kiss on the cheek ..."

Hannah leaned toward him ...

"Hannah wait!" he cried. "It's too risky ..."

"I can't live the rest of my life without kissing you!" she replied.

"Maybe we just shouldn't talk about it for awhile," Willy suggested.

"Oh, okay," she said with a sigh.

It never occurred to her that he might be fibbing.
 
[bravo!]
 
Now don't be bashful folks, this is a story for all of us to tell ...

Won't someone take the next turn? a couple of sentences is all we need, unless you feel inclined to do more.

Please, let's tell a story together! :D
 
"That clinches it," thought William after he dropped Hannah off at her apartment later that night, "She really is stupid." He heaved a sigh. Shame. She was beautiful, and had a certain charm about her. He reminded himself that as fun as it was to corrupt the innocent, stupidity really was a hard limit, and pulled away from the curb.

He had to know, that it was no coy act on her part, but after tonight he simply had no doubt. This woman had the mind of a child.
 
Willy pulled out his phone from the pocket of his jeans. Hannah was a no go, so what would he do for the rest of his evening? He swiped left, he swiped right, and there, posted for all to see was his fantasy, his fairy story come true, he tapped out the first message...
 
"Dear everyone," he tapped. "I am looking for a woman with an open mind, a sharp mind, an innovative mind. Yes it's all about the intellect for me. I look at that first before I look at anything else. Are you my special gal?" He took a moment to admire his work, then added his phone number and email address so women could contact him.

He drove home and fed the dog, took the dog for a walk, then had a look at the Moon. It was close to full, not entirely but close. "I won't transform tonight," he thought. "Tomorrow, perhaps, or the day after. Yes, life as a werespider is hard. I hope I will catch many insects." Little did William know that he was insane. He would indeed catch (and eat) insects at night when the full Moon was out, but he would not turn into a spider. Doctors had told him he had a kind of dissociative identity disorder, but he didn't take that seriously. He had no memory of his childhood.

In his "human" state he was mostly a capable man, he even had an administrative job at the local credit union. He did have some oddities about him, a bit too much of an ego ... okay, way too much. He figured he was like the next leap in evolution, women everywhere would love him, he would have to screen them with care.
 
Pure Hannah, too, was looking at the moon that night. Who could sleep after such a revelation? A frog! Maybe a frog prince? She giggled at the idea. Maybe she was dating a prince? He didn't actually say.
But the no kissing thing really bothered her. What about their wedding day? No "you may kiss the bride"? Where is the magic? And how would they explain? And shouldn't she give him the favour to send him back to his princess?

A sigh escaped her lips. Her head felt really heavy. Should she call him? She took out her phone and found his name on the screen. No, he said don't talk about it for a while. She checked the time instead. She decided call Lilly instead. Lilly was her best friend and confidant, but much smarter then Hannah. She liked maths and stuff. Sure she could help her figure out something.
 
Lilly listened patiently to Hannah's dilemma, but pointed out that Willy's story didn't make any scientific sense. "Do you know what would be involved in a frog changing into a human? It's mind-boggling."

Then Lilly said, "Do you want to be on friendly terms with Willy? If so, call him up and talk to him." At the same time, Lilly was reading an ad on her computer screen. The ad said, "Dear everyone ... I am looking for a woman with an open mind, a sharp mind, an innovative mind. Yes it's all about the intellect for me. I look at that first before I look at anything else. Are you my special gal?" Lilly thought to herself, "Hmmm, it makes logical sense that I would make a good match for such a person. Perhaps I should give him a call."

At the same time, Willy was eating dinner. Mattar paneer and frog legs. Suddenly, his cell phone started buzzing. "Hmmm, I wonder who that could be." He picked up the phone and looked at the name. It was ...
 
... his ARCH NEMESIS!

For years he has known that Steve from Accounting has been following his movements and plotting his demise. William had filled several notebooks with elaborate plans for preemptive strikes, defensive fortifications, and intelligence on his enemy. Every day at the credit union, William had to cope, often seething with a combination of rage and anxiety, at the smug pretense of the insufferable goody two shoes, Steve, who always pretended to be so normal, so benign, so invisibly mediocre and average.

William had long ago programmed all of Steve's numbers into his phone with the vague notion of calling him one day to let him know that this passive aggressive approach to playing superhero to William's masterful evil genius simply would not stand, and that a showdown was imminent. But for some reason, he had never taken that step of actually making the call.

Well it looked as though it was about to be "Game ON"...well played, Steve from Accounting. Well played...

Heart hammering in his chest, William picked up the phone and...
 
... said, "Uh, hello there, Steve ..." (thinking to himself, reminding himself, it's Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve).

"Uh hi," said Steve. "Hey listen. I think we maybe got off on the wrong foot. Maybe we should take another crack at it. Do you play tennis?"

William was tearing through his computer files, trying to detect if Steve was copying and deleting them. He barely heard what Steve said. "Huh? What? Tennis?"

"Tennis. Do you play tennis."

"What? Oh sure, I play tennis ..."

"We should get together for a friendly match sometime. How about this Saturday."

"Saturday? What?" Those files must be in there somwhere. Think William, think, what files would Steve be copying?

"Saturday. At 10:00? at the Paved Gardens tennis courts."

"10:00. Sure sure." So that was Steve's game. Catching William with a little late-night tennis, just to humiliate him publicly. But he couldn't say no! That would just be an admission of defeat. He would have to practice hard at his tennis game for the rest of this week. (It was Thursday.)

"... and I was thinking afterwards we could do lunch. Maybe George's Bar and Grill? It's close by."

"Yeah yeah yeah. George's Bar and Grill." William's heart sank a little. He preferred Leo the Lion's which was next door to George's. But, he must not show any signs of weakness. George's it was!

Just at that moment, William detected the file that Steve had stolen. It was a porn clip, an old one, but one that could get William in a lot of trouble if it was spread around at the office.

He was about to say, "Steve, computer theft is a very serious crime," but Steve beat him to the punch.

"That's great William. See you on Saturday."

Click.

"Oh sure," thought Willy, "butter me up by calling me William. Well we shall see who humiliates whom come this Saturday!"
 
William then walked to the refrigerator in his tiny apartment kitchen and opened it. He stood there for a long time staring into the refrigerator and wondering what he had intended to do, why he had intended to do it, and whom he would involve or implicate. It was in that moment that he realized just how weary and tired he had become. Days had passed and he had not been eating any insects, nor acknowledging his midnight meals of insects ... under the moon... under the moon, under the moon. "Under the moon," William uttered almost silently to himself, not knowing why. "Under the moon."

With the refrigerator door still open, Willy took a single aluminum can of Canteen Brewhouse IPA out and held it in his warm hands a while, wondering what happens to the light in the refrigerator should he close the door. "Does the light stay on?" he wondered almost aloud to himself. "Or does the coldness of the aluminum can draw out all of the warmth of my frail human body?" Upon such thinking, Willy considered that "Maybe in fact I am dreaming, and should therefore close the refrigerator door?" He closed the door and walked, two beers in hand, toward his bedroom. "Damn I'm tired!" he thought almost silently to himself. "Perhaps I should have listened to that damned shrink who said I should not take Xxannexx pills whilst also being a frog dreaming of lilipad women mixed with alcohol when I'm ever so damned tired, drifting almost toward sleep, with Donald Trump on the airwaves drumming up crowds of fat middle aged disappointed people living in aluminum cans in my refrigerator...". Whereupon Willy fell fast asleep on his little wooden boat cot, spilling beer onto the hardwood floor of his apartment.
 
Last edited:
Willy's cell phone woke him up the next morning with its customized alarm sound, a clip from one of William's favorite songs:

Leo, the Lion,
and his very best,
yes,
very best,
friend George.​

If this were a day off, Willy would geek on the internet in search of "George's" identity. Was George a hippo, or a spotted orangutan? Opinions were sharply divided on the net and most of them said hippo, but a few argued that there was a slight chance -- very slight -- that he was an orangutan. Willy hadn't made up his mind. He secretly hoped an orangutan, but he needed proof before he could decide for sure.

Alas it was a work day, and someone (probably Steve) had spilled beer on his hardwood floor. "Well played," Willy muttered. While Steve was practicing at tennis, Willy sat here trying to clean up the floor. He was almost out of Murphy's oil soap but not quite. (This wasn't the first time he'd woke up to beer on the floor. He was even thinking of writing a new country song, called, "Beer on the Floor.")

Luckily, Willy always set his alarm early, to make up for the "chaos factor." So he cleaned at a leisurely rate, singing, "Leo-Lio ... Leo-Lio," as he went. Then it was off to work at the credit union.
 
Unbeknownst to Willy, as he dashed out his apartment and headed to work, a commotion was taking place inside his refrigerator. The night before, with a beer in each hand, he had not shut the refrigerator door properly before he went into his bedroom. And so the light had not gone off. This disturbed the furry little creatures who lived in the land underneath the appliance.

Way, way in the back of the fridge, behind the container of soured, lumpy milk, the old jars of pickle juice, expired Bosco, and something unidentifiable, was a small opening that led to their world. O, the light, the light! they cried. It had been on all night! The beam of light had invaded the center of their gathering spot for many hours, and disrupted their usual night-time activities. And so they banded together.

First, the creatures tugged at the cord with their furry paw-like appendages. Then, they heaved-ho in unison to rock the refrigerator, hoping its door would shut. Cans of beer rolled out, one after another. Two eggs wobbled back and forth before they were pitched wildly out the door, landing in a double splat. A jar of moldy mayonnaise crashed onto the floor, resulting in a greenish blob mixed with shards of glass. A neighbor banged on a shared wall and yelled for quiet. Willy's dog, Blotto, yelped and hid under the sofa, quivering with fear. The creatures had made a valiant effort but were unable to gain enough purchase to rock the refrigerator at the perfect angle that would shut the door. This would not do! There was only one thing left to try...
 
Last edited:
"The Holy Hand Grenade!" one of them shouted.

"Yes of course, the Holy Hand Grenade of Leo the Lion. If it is thrown just right, it will cause the fridge to implode."

"Oh that's perfect, read from the Book of Armaments."

"First thou shalt count to three. Three shall be the number of thy counting, and the number of thy counting shalt be three. Thou shalt not count to four, neither shalt thou count to two, lest thou then proceed on to three. Five is right out! Then lobbest thou thy hand grenade, and thine enemies, being naughty in my sight, shall be blown to tiny bits."

"Amen."

"One, two, five."

"Three sir!"

"Three!"

[cue holy chorus]

The grenade hit the door perfectly. Suddenly there was a mighty implosion of pressure. The atmosphere around the fridge made a crushing motion, forcing the door shut. Also all the items in the fridge were herded together in the center, including the furry creatures, but they were not crushed, as the exterior of the fridge protected them from the main force of the grenade.

There was some cursing and grunting as the creatures tried to find their way around in the sudden darkness, looking for the small opening that led to their world.

Meanwhile, all was peaceful outside the fridge, though the food on the floor had flown up into the air and slammed into the door of the fridge. Egg and mayo slowly dripped back down towards the floor.

Blotto tenatively checked out the spilled goods, then, with a, "Yelch," returned to the sofa.
 
The sound of the implosion startled Willy awake suddenly, unexpectedly. The first thing Will realized upon this unexpected awakening was that his teeth were coated, each one, in a thin but yet quite discernible coating of what Willy liked to call "pre-plaque." Few things in life are more reprehensible to Will than plaque itself, and so the presence of pre-plaque in Willy's mouth began to alert his gag reflex.

Jumping up from the black faux-leather (but rather convincing) couch in his living room (which was also the family and dining room), William sped toward the tiny bathroom in his tiny apartment, seeking first the very large plastic bottle of blue-green Scope, a mouthwash. Gargling furiously, William squeezed a dab of Crest Extra Blue onto his toothbrush, which he had diligently replaced the previous Tuesday, according to the instructions he had provided for himself on Wednesday of the previous week concerning tooth brush replacements.

"Never mind these details," willy said to himself aloud.

Gazing into the mirror whilst brushing his teeth, Willy wondered allowed ("aloud, a;loud I said!") why he would use the very English word "whilst" whilst brushing his teeth and furiously tapping his right and left thumbs upon the screen of his iPhone 6. Or was it iPhone 7? ... It hardly matters, he wondered almost aloud to himself. I ccouldd simply talk into the iPhone in either case "and it ccouldd type the fucking words for me"! Shit! he said to himself almost aloud! This voice recoggnitttion system is malfunctioning aaggaaain! Shit! Shit! he said aloud to himself, his iPhone 8 registering ever every eeeeverffrryyy shit!

Without saiy9ng a wrd Willy thoutht silently to himfself how thsi alaywsys hapspns hwehnever he watches those old, dusty, Monty Python DVDs. Meanwhile, Willy's young son types poor, confused Willy a text message on his iPhone 9. It reads, "Dear Dad, ... What's a DVD?"
 
Last edited:
"Ohhh, there's no time now, I must be off to work." The egg and mayo hadn't raised a stink yet, so William did not notice. He was too busy enjoying the slippery, shiny nature of his teeth.
 
You must log in or register to reply here.
Back
Top