The Editing Room
by Mr Zaborskii
What mayhem will occur when several writers join to create the Great American Novel?
It was a dark night. The rain slid down the windows, and the wind howled outside. Huddled in the editing room of a small publishing house, a group of virtually unknown authors joined forces in search of a common goal: to write the Great American Novel.|
It was no small undertaking: they endlessly debated the characters, the conflict, and whether or not a Sherlock Holmes hat would make the hero look cooler. Only one thing was certain: vampires were a bit overused. That and the fact that, like a treasure hunter goes through an overfilled closet to find that single, priceless antique, the team would likely have to go through decades' worth of useless junk to find the one, true novel.
So scroll down and let's get started. We have a hell of a lot of useless junk to write. In fact, the more useless your junk is, the better.
Xzygrumglaxz "Zeb" Prndwooooxly
Sebastian Thaddeus Prndwooooxly
Ginger Billiken Prndwooooxly
Luke Maaaaxwell Prndwooooxly
The Cameraman aka Glaak
Places and Things
Rough Outline (PurpleHaze you will have to help me out on this one):
Chapter 1: Kent and Carol make love while Zeb wanders off to create the giant lizard, Hurrgurrdurrmon.
Chapter 2: we learn that Zelda Lou is a Neptunian, most likely spying on the Prndwooooxly's and using Thad for her own purposes.
Chapter 7 or so: after Zeb has a bizarre and ominous dream, a number of the group head to the New Mars Moon Base to ensure that Brad and the defenders are doing alright.
Chapter 8: New Mars is attacked by Schrumpflickers, and for the most part, annihilated. At the last second, the defenders activate a giant laser and shatter the nearest projectile, saving themselves... for now.
Chapter 9: A... an incident with a Martian sex robot controlled by Pforg, the Schrumpflicker general, results in a swarm of aphromosquitoes covering New Mars. The group escapes just a moment too late, and Kent is infected.
Chapter 10: on the way to Earth, Zeb falls asleep and his transport drifts to the tropical planet Caribinooine, where he is treated to food, sex, and fascination with his rural Martian stupidity.
Chapter 11: Pforg lands on Mars to kidnap Zeb for Schrumpflicker purposes. But in order to get Zeb, he has to conform to Cariboo customs and traditions, which are not easy for him to get used to. Feeling depressed, he sinks into a bowl of psychosis psoup and relives a part of his childhood.
Chapter 12: aphromosquitoes invade Caribinooine, prompting Hurrgurrdurrmon to call Zargon and several thousand Shrumpflicker lawnmowers to the rescue.
Chapter 13: the lawnmowers clog, prompting the inhabitants of the planet to start a giant orgy, which convinces the creatures that there is no need to infect anyone on the planet. They pass on, looking for less sexual beings.
Chapter 14: Zelda Lou's labor screams carry all the way to Caribinooine, and the men of the group pile back into transports to make their return. The women are most likely not far behind.
Chapter 15: Zelda Lou's labor finally ends, yielding a child dubbed, "Luke Maaaaxwell Prndwooooxly."
Mr Zaborskii : But Brad heard Chad, because Chad was in his dreams. As a child, he used to imagine that he had a twin, and was so set on the idea that he would dream of Chad. They would frolic through the meadows, have tea-parties, and play dress-up.
Mr Zaborskii : As he grew older, the tea-time conversations grew more mature and more political. "If you had a body," Brad said, "it would solve my problems. But back up: I'm pretty sure the real question is Willimakit."
Steve Ellen : "Perhaps both problems have the same solution?" Chad mused, but years of being trapped in someone else's brain had left him with little capacity for original thinking and he quickly dropped the idea.
Mr Zaborskii : Which landed softly in the picnic blanket between them. Brad picked it up, contemplating it. "you know, I could use ideas like this," He said, turning it over in his fingers, "where do you get them?"
Steve Ellen : Chad found himself flustered at this unexpected appreciation of the admittedly meager creations of his mind. "I don't know. They just kind of ... come to me. It's kind of spooky, I guess, isn't it?"
Mr Zaborskii : "I need to spend more time with you," Brad continued, "this thing could get me at least twenty dollars on the black market. Do you have more?" Chad thought for a moment and said, "I do have one actually. Here it is." Brad grabbed it and read...
Mr Zaborskii : "When you wake up, you will be asked to play a fatal game of Scrabble. Don't do it." Brad was shocked. "I'm not awake?" He asked, "But I feel so happy here! NOOOOOO!" And just then, he woke up.
Mr Zaborskii : Don't play Scrabble, he thought. Got it. He stared at the ceiling for a while listening for Chad's voice. Meanwhile, the Cameraman and Zelda were trying out ways to have sex using telescopes. Zelda, being a capable multi-tasker, was
Mr Zaborskii : also trying to ask him what he knew about the Mysterious Cloaked Figure. "Have you ever seen what lies underneath the cloak?" She asked.
Steve Ellen : "Heh-heh!" replied the Cameraman. "What do you THINK is under there, lassie?" Zelda blushed. "I thought maybe a garment of some kind. Surely you don't mean that she's... naked under there?"
Steve Ellen : "Why not?" said the Cameraman. "Although, to be sure, it might only be my personal fantasy. I've never uncloaked her. We Klingons respect a good cloak."
CopyPaper : "Although I find many different alien species sexy, the human female is repugnant," Glaak reminisced. "It's just that I get off on repugnancy." In the next room, Brad was recalling his last word in the dream Scrabble game. It had scored 92 points.
CopyPaper : "R E added to your PUG and then N A N C Y at the end..." Then Brad recalled Nancy. She was a Saturnian. Satmortoon's daughter, to be exact. Her father had paid his debt to Skippy XVII and she was free to roam the galaxy looking for dark matter.
Mr Zaborskii : She had quickly become an authority on dark matter, travelling the galaxy giving lectures, and that's where Brad had met her. His friends had insisted that, if he wouldn't play WOW with them, the least he could do was attend a Dark Matter Convention...
Mr Zaborskii : He wasn't sure how he had gotten these cumbersome--not to mention nerdy--friends. Who even knew there was a "Dark Matter" convention? Brad knew of science conventions, but an entire convention on Dark Matter? How would they fill space? (no pun intended)
Steve Ellen : His unintended pun fell flat on the insensitive ears of the Dark Matter conventioneers. Accustomed to long conversations about the invisible and the unknowable, the Dark Matterites had reduced language to a system of 7 grunts, 2 hisses and an angry gasp.
Steve Ellen : The DM'ers used their Grunt language to explore concepts ordinary people found inconceivable, but then, ordinary people didn't have the advantage of a specialized scientifc language designed for the task.
Steve Ellen : "Nancy daughter of Satmortoon is pretty hot!" Brad said. "Ugh!" grunted a DM'er. "Hammahamma whoa!" said another, while a third hissed appreciatively.
Dad : "Yeah, she is," sputtered a fourth DM'er named Todd as his face brightened considerably into a deep red. "And she spoke to me this morning. Right after I stepped on her foot. She asked if I was OK." Brad looked skeptically at Todd. "She asked you....
Dad : ...if you were OK?" Todd turned even redder, his embarrassment growing. "Well, her exact words were 'What's the matter with you? Didn't you see me standing here?' And of course I did. I was just trying to get close to her and...um...well, talk to her"
Mr Zaborskii : Brad was beginning to wonder why he was still here. He turned to go, and knocked right into Nancy. She had just finished her DM speech and, thrown off by the "applause" of grunts and hisses she received, had wandered into the second-floor seats.
Mr Zaborskii : "WATCH WHERE YOU"RE G--" She began, looking up at who exactly had knocked her down. But his long hair was so dreamy, his height so imposing, his kindness so comforting. He held his hand out to her, saying, "I'm so sorry! I should've been more careful."
Steve Ellen : She felt like butter melting on pancakes waiting for the syrup as she put her hand in his and savored the imposing, dreamy comfort of his kindness. "Why thank you, kind sir," she said. "I do believe I have met a gentleman."
Mr Zaborskii : "Are you sure you're alright?" pressed Brad, eager to respect Nancy's feelings. "No!" She insisted, "I actually like getting knocked over. It's... um... gravity in action. Physics! Plus, I get lost in my thoughts, and it brings me back to Earth!"
Mr Zaborskii : Meanwhile, Brad was starting to care less and less about how hot Nancy was, and more and more about where the exit was. If she liked getting knocked over, what other bizarre, random things would she be fond of? He scanned the walls, looking for "exit"
Steve Ellen : But nary a red light was to be seen. Of course, they may have chosen some cool decorative scheme involving blue or green exit lights, eh? ... Knocked over, knocked out, knocked up... The possibilities chased each other through his trembling mind.
Dad : Todd finally drew up his courage, straightened his plastic pocket protector, smoothed down his slicked down hair, and approached Brad and Nancy. "Hey!" he squeaked nervously. "What's the problem! You didn't act like this when I bumped into you!"
Dad : Nancy looked blankly at him. "You bumped into me?" Flustered and flummoxed, Todd began to retreat, but backed into the wall. "Uh, yeah. About an hour ago. I, er, accidentally stepped on your foot. You...you yelled at me. Why don't you yell at him?"
CopyPaper : "We'll yell later, alright?" she said, trying her best to brush him off gently. Brad flushed. Then he straightened up and raised his fly. He turned to face his squeaky-voiced friend and said, "Yeah. Later!"
Steve Ellen : As a Saturnian, Nancy was free to roam, but as a woman, she was looking for a home.
Mr Zaborskii : Todd crumpled yet another page, infuriated at his feeble attempts at poetry. Someone had once told him, "write what you feel" but that had ended poorly. He had made it only a few lines before he realized that perhaps some feelings crossed the line.
Mr Zaborskii : His earlier poem, written to the aforementioned model, went like so: "whenever I'm thinking of Nancy, a fire ignites in my pants see, and it blazes and burns and I hurt and I yearn, for I know that I don't stand a chancey."
Steve Ellen : It was months before he tried another: "Love sits on me like a wart. I feel that it sets me apart. I glow because I love her. I wish I could shove her... down the tunnel that leads to my heart."
Steve Ellen : After that he abandoned writing and took up with some amateur actors. This was all when he was much younger of course, like 8 or 9. They did Hamlet in the round and the Sound of Music underground.
Ravenwand, Rising Star! : But the Sound of Music underground was a huge flop as well, because no one was able to hear it on the surface. "Back to square one," he thought.
Steve Ellen : But you can never go home again, can you? Square One was now a retailer of imported home decor items like wrought iron candleholders, straw furniture, glass paperweights, carved masks, paper mache pinatas, plaster yard gnomes, and fragrant beeswax candles
Mr Zaborskii : Todd's flashback ended, leaving him in the crowded room, with Nancy pushing through the crowd chasing Brad. This was his last chance. It was time for him to prove that he could, indeed, be an interesting, personable individual.
Mr Zaborskii : "NO!" he yelled, "I'm not letting you brush me off anymore! Just because I have glasses and know a special dark-matter dialect doesn't mean I'm some sort of freak who is unworthy of women! I'm a human too! I had a mother just like you!"
Mr Zaborskii : Although not technically accurate (Saturnian women lay eggs when they get pregnant, often leaving them at the nearest hospitable house so as to continue their roaming) His words really struck a chord with Nancy.
Dad : It was B Flat minor, her favorite key. She looked back at Todd. He wasn't a bad sort. OK, so his face was pimply. Maybe he was twenty pounds underweight. So he wore thick glasses, and snorted when he laughed. What did Brad have that he didn't?
Dad : Nancy nodded to herself. Brad had looks, muscles, long, soft hair, dreamy eyes, a car, er rather, a spaceship. A large bank account. Nancy turned quickly and followed Brad out to his spaceship.
Steve Ellen : Todd thought rapidly. He could give up. He could kill himself. There were a number of self-defeating lines of action he could follow. But none felt right. What felt right was ultimate victory! Some say that was the precise moment that Todd "snapped".
Dad : Todd snapped his fingers. "I should start a rock band. All the chicks dig the lead singer. I'll get a coupla the guys. Carmine can play the drums. He'll never get a girl anyway. Maybe Ralph can play the keyboards. I could learn guitar!"
Mr Zaborskii : And the only way he could learn to play guitar would be to design a video that demanded mastery of a real guitar (not one of those button controller "guitars") in order to win. So he exited the convention, built a computer, and started coding.
Steve Ellen : Meanwhile, Nancy finally caught up with Brad and put the moves on him. "It will be the lucky lady who has you for a husband, Brad! What a catch you are, Brad! Oh God what a steaming hunk of man meat you are! Oh Brad, you make me go all whoozy inside!"
CopyPaper : "Kent Clark?" called the nurse at the waiting room desk. The donkey arose, with Carol holding him by the ear. He always loved that about her. "Room fourteen please," the nurse said, pointing them in that direction. But they never made it to 14.
Steve Ellen : While Todd coded and Nancy flirted, Kent and Carol wandered down the endless hallways of HummaHumma Hospital. "What was that room number again?" Carol asked. Kent's dispirited reply: "Didn't you write it down?"
Dad : "Wasn't it room 69?" Carol asked. Kent sighed. "No, Dear, 69 is what you have planned when we found the room. Let's go ask the nice lady for the room number again."
Mr Zaborskii : But by that time, they had realized too late that they couldn't go back to the nurse. Every room they passed said, "room 13"
Steve Ellen : "Are we in the Twilight Zone?" Carol asked. / "I don't know," Kent replied. "Let me check to see if my rod has turned to sterling." / Carol waited. "Well, has it?" / Kent smiled. "That was a joke." / Carol shrugged. "Oh? Was it?"
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