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Discussion Starter · #1 ·
Okay, authors, put your creative juices to the test! Ever written a chain story? It's where you write one sentence that contributes to the ongoing story. You can come back later and add another sentence, but you can't write back-to-back sentences. Let's see where this story goes! Below is the opening line. PJ


It came at me so fast, I barely had time to react.


 

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The cauldron of boiling potatoes she hurled at me were hard enough to duck, but the skewers of rosemary crusted lamb shish kabobs she poked at me proved she minored in fencing in college.
 

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With all that in mind, I ducked through the doorway and dived for the closet, shouting a plaintive, "Wait a minute!" as I went.
 

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"Wait a minute?" Pam shouted, skewer branded high in hand; I could see her through the slats in the closet door, anxious, flustered, and baffled. "Do you know how long it took me to squeeze into this rubber maid's outfit? Do you know how many cigarettes I had to smoke this afternoon just so I would be hoarse enough to do the Fat Albert impersonation like you wanted? No! You get out here and let's take care of business now!"
Oh, I knew that Pam was baby hungry, but I didn't think that things would get this bad when I agreed to try for one - we'd only been married for three months!
 

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"Forget it," Pam hissed, tossing her ebony hair over one sleek shoulder. "At this point I wouldn't bleep you with a rented vagina."
 

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Thoughts of a threesome suddenly flashed through my mind.  Perhaps a rented vagina wasn't a bad idea.  Perhaps Ryan Gosling could rent a vagina and join us ...
 

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And then I realized that paying Ryan Gosling to join us would basically be renting a vagina, seeing as he's a total twit; The Notebook made it impossible for me to keep a girl longer than three dates once they realized I was an average bloke.
 

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I admit I prefer the rubber gardener costume or the ployester mailman costume, but the butler costume would do in a pinch.  Heh.  Pinch.
 

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Lynn ODell said:
After pulling the outfit on, and tugging a wedge of it out of my crack, I stepped out of the closet only to find that Pam had apparently given up and left the bedroom.
To answer the door. A mailman entered, with an evil grin and a gun in his hand. "Special delivery," he said.
 

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Discussion Starter · #14 ·
Fearing for her safety, I pushed Pam aside, and snatched the mailman's long, hot and smoking gun. 
 

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Which wasn't a euphemism.  It really was a real gun with real bullets.  I don't think, however, the mailman was real.  He had a shifty look about him.
 

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Discussion Starter · #16 ·
And when he threw down his cap and fake moustache, Pam gasped, "Congressman Weiner! What are you doing here? I've told you, though the virtual passion we shared was virtually my most euphoric Twitter experience, the virtual love we shared can be no more!"
 

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"Congressman Weiner?" I gasped in astonishment.  "I'm so sorry.  I thought you were Mr. Burns.  Wait!"  I turned to Pam in shock.  "You were sexting on Twitter?  How could you do this to me!  I thought we were soulmates in pleather."
 

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Discussion Starter · #18 ·
Pam's eyes watered over with unshed tears, as she sank to her knees on the floor. "I have something to confess," she said. "I've never liked pleather. In fact, I faked all those climatic pleather moments with you. I had no choice, don't you understand? Congressman Weiner has been blackmailing me with a dirty, dark secret." She ended on a sob, crying convulsively into the retro puke-green shag carpet.
 

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"It's true," Congressman Weiner said, stepping forward, his gun dripping oil onto my carpet. "And now it's time to pay up!"
 

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And that's when my closeted-accountant personality kicked in. "Wait one hairy minute," I said crossing the room to poke the Congressman in his bird chest. "I believe you have more to lose by being exposed than we do! Put your weapon in my hand or we'll take your hot-mess straight to the tabloids!"
 
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