Dear Professor Hannaford,
I spent two hours last night trying to co-write a piece with Ed like you assigned. I wrote one paragraph, then he did the second, and so-on. In two whole hours he ruined every story, leaving it unwritable. I cannot work with this man any further. I am attaching our last co-written piece below as an example.
I went first.
Sincerely,
Charlene
The popcorn chicken is too cold. Hot outside, but a squeeze shows it's frozen in the middle. I poke some buttons and add a few minutes to the timer. In the next room some guy who sold me a magic mop that didn’t work is selling something that has to do with X-Rays and hospital visits. Somewhere, someone coughs.
Out of nowhere an armored transport smashes through the wall! It crushes my stupid microwave oven. Popcorn chicken bits get stuck between the treds and fling up at me in all kind of crazy slow motion before the transport totally crushes me! Oh my God, the humanity! Armored commandos ignore my lame emo carcass as they jump out the back to secure the room. Let freedom reign!
Did Ed grow up and start writing under the name "Tom Clancy"?
ReplyDeleteIf Charlene would take that pickle out of her butt she'd write better.
ReplyDeleteYou've been drinking again, haven't you? Sober up.
ReplyDeleteI actually don't drink alcohol. I do write later at night than I probably should, though.
ReplyDeleteFair enough, John. That fell a bit flat. Late nights have a similar effect to alcohol, but they're much cheaper.
ReplyDeletePS: I notice you don't have a picture. I recommend it, unless you look like a river. Sorry Cathy.
I should add a picture. I should find out how to add a picture.
ReplyDeleteDid this work? Let's find out.
Your picture is working, Mr Wiswell, it is working!
ReplyDeleteIt's working! It's alive! It's alive!
ReplyDeleteNow I want to change my picture to Dr. Frankenstein yelling.
I agree with Cathy, honestly. I want to hear more of Ed's story.
ReplyDelete