[Slade]

HAHA! Brilliant! You worked our sandpaper conversation into that... the things I talk about on AIM...

I haven't laughed this hard since... earlier today, when I watched the latest Strong Bad Email...

I especially enjoyed the word play. I do so love word play. Andrewjackson glands... You've made my day.

Although the word is spelled "lewd", not "lude", although the spelling of "jizz" is subjective, so "gyz" is just as plausable.

What's the deal with me and ellipses...?

[Slade]

Almost a month and no Chuzzlewit tales? FOR SHAME!

[Chyld]

Say, you know what's weird? Foreshadowing? Taken from about 2003...

http://www.toothpast...hair-buffet.gif

[Slade]

Yikes. That's rather creepy... Where did the Chuzzlewit tales go? Are they dead?

[J m HofMarN]

Chuzzlewit tales don't die. They just fade away until the laughter stops and they're needed again. Hey, we never did get around to deciding who's was best, though I think its clear that it goes to Mad Rabbit.

[Mad Rabbit]

I guess I'll post here, seeing as this is where I probably posted the most! I apologize for not being around, however as I stated before my computer fried, I had got it up and running again, but then the damn thing went and conked out on me again. I finally got enough funds together to get me a brand spanking new computer so I hope to be a regular face around here again! Man do I have a lot of catching up to do! I didn't want to leave this story unfinished and from the looks of it I have a lot of posts to read through. I just want to thank you folks for your interest in Julie's story. Hey JM, how can I win if my story isn't even finished yet?

[Slade]

Hooray! He's alive! Ten huzzahs for the Mad Rabbit! You'll win if we all vote for you. Although those Andrewjackson glands do excite me so... We need more entries, damn it. All of you Crocky fools, start writing!

[J m HofMarN]

Good heavens you're alive! I shall sacrifice a chicken to one of the dark gods tonight! I'm truly glad to see you're back and that your computer is now in good health.

[SimeSublime]

We had feared the worst. Good to see you back amongst us.


Edit: Was superfluous. Yes, I just wanted to try and say that word.

This post has been edited by SimeSublime: 08 March 2005 - 08:31 AM

[Mad Rabbit]

A long time coming but here it is... hope you like!

Julie Colton Versus The Albino Gymnastic Death Brigade. Part 7

Julie clawed at Jason’s ankle, twisting her body violently trying to escape from the increasing weight Jason was putting on her throat.

“Don’t struggle dear girl, it will go much slower if you do.” Jason said almost chuckling.

Julie’s struggling became more sluggish; the lack of oxygen was depleting what strength she had left. She looked up at Jason with glazed eyes wishing to wipe that arrogant smile off of his face. She found a little strength in the thought and managed to push his foot off of her neck long enough to get a breath of glorious air.

“Your fortitude is almost unsettling Ms. Colton! It’s time I stopped playing with you and just be done with it.” Jason said as he reestablished his foothold across Julie’s neck, bearing all his weight upon it.

Julie tried to let out a scream, but she could not make a sound. The pain she felt on her neck was nothing compared to the pain she felt in her chest from the lack of air. Julie dug her fingernails deeper into Jason’s ankle and drew blood, hoping it would be enough to get Jason off of her. It wasn’t. Julie could tell that she was causing Jason some discomfort; he was now biting his bottom lip.

“At least I wiped that smile off his face.” She thought to herself as blackness began to take her.

“Defiant to the end!” Jason said through gritted teeth. “I imagine I’ll need to have my ankle looked at after this.”

Julie managed a smile, taking comfort that she had not given up without a fight. Julie closed her eyes knowing that these would be her last moments. She heard a fluttering of wings, which she knew to be an angel flying and the weight was now off her throat. She wondered what the sound of an angel’s voice sounded like.

“AAAAARRRRRGH! MY EYE!”

Julie opened her eyes; she wasn’t in heaven but still in the store. She sat up her strength slowly returning now that she was able to breath. To Julie’s amazement Martin Chuzzlewit was bobbing his head in front of her with a pink eye dangling from his mouth. Jason was rolling in the aisles screaming in pain as his hands covered the left side of his face.

“MARTIN! YOU’RE ALIVE!” Julie squealed with glee scooping the puffin in her arms and giving him a cuddle.

Martin responded in kind, rubbing his head under Julie’s chin. Jason cursed still rolling on the floor as he tried to work trough the pain.

“Excuse me for a moment Martin. I still have some unfinished business to attend to.” Julie put the bird down gently and got to her feet. She crept slowly toward Jason as if she were a cat stalking a mouse.

Jason had managed to get to his feet only to feel a swift kick land right between his legs. The man doubled over.

“You cannot believe how incredibly good that felt to me!” Julie said as rolled onto his back.

“You are going to die… slowly and painfully you … OOOOOOF!” Jason was unable to complete his sentence as Julie had brought her foot crashing into his manhood yet again.

“Your fortitude is most unsettling.” Julie mocked. “It’s time that I stopped playing with you and just be done with it!” Julie picked up a glass jar and brought it crashing down over Jason’s skull. Jason stopped moving.

Julie stood over her opponent and took in a deep breath. She looked over at Martin; back down at her unconscious foe, then around the decimated store.

“Man, Anthony Bottomfeeder is going to be pissed when he sees this place, Martin.” Julie said.

End part 7

As always any feedback is most welcome!

[J m HofMarN]

A fantabulous job, Rabbit! Julie can still kick some ass and I'm glad to see you back in the swing of things.

[Slade]

Huzzah indeed! Don't forget to catch up on all of the Chuzzlewit tales written in your absense... all, uh... five of them...? Either way, mucho kudos, I am gripped by your story and eagerly await the next chapter.

[SimeSublime]

Brilliant to see you back in the saddle, but even more brilliant to see the puffin is well.

[J m HofMarN]

The Chuzzlewit Saga

The gentle caress of a door opening swayed Mrs. Chuzzlewits garments to and fro like the gentle whisps of a willow sweeping in a cool breeze like the kind that tend to occur on april twenty-first.

Mr. Chuzzlewit walked in, holding a book. Eight of his fingers gently caressed the maroon hard cover of the book, while his two thumbs held the pages on either side of the great valley that travelled down to the spine of the volume. Martin, for this was his Christian name, was terribly worried that his wife knew he had been having an affair with the attractive young groundskeeper, Pedro.

Oh how he lusted for Pedro. Pedro, in his khaki shorts, with his nicely cleft palate and hair that was as long as twenty black checkers pieces and one read piece stacked atop eachother, and much the same color. Pedro, who's name was like a Spanish mariner begging god to send him fish as the hot sun bore down. Pedro, who Mr. Chuzzlewit constantly made pointless and over-elaborate metaphors about.

Pedro, who was like the sky on a day when there are only a very few clouds so that it's not quite cloudless but it's not too sunny and the weather is good for a picnic. Yes, Pedro was good weather for a picnic.

This was what Mr. Chuzzlewit thought as he looked upon his wife of thirty seven years. She had aged in that time. Not like an ancient old house that had gone uncared for, but like a wife who's husband cheated on her with a sultry hispanic groundskeeper.

She looked up to him and her eyes were like the eyes of a woman in labor when the painkillers have begun to kick in a little bit but not quite enough that she can't feel all the pain but she can only feel a little of the pain. She was pushing out a painful word so she thought to herself that she was very much in labor. And it was a labor to say the word she said to Martin, her husband of thirty seven years.

"Hello" She said.

Her word burned like fire. It was not the word, but the tone. Martin knew that Hazel Chuzzlewit was aware, or at least suspicious, of his misdeeds. The things that could happen flashed through his mind with the speed of a subway train, screaming on its brakes to avoid the one person infront of it waiting for the inevitable death being born down the two rails one that was fate and one that was time. Would this be him if his wife asked for a divorce? He did not know.

Martin was panicking. He had to reply. But how? Yes, comment on the book, that would do. "I am reading a book." He said rather idioticly. His attempt to change the subject floated on the air like the leaf that falls at noon on the third to last day before the winter solstice, the leaf that has hung on to an oak tree. An oak tree that had to have one of its limbs cut off to save it from gypsy moths but still lives and still clings just like the leaf that clung until three days before the most bitter day of the year.

Finally the short day ended and spring began to emerge, tiny flowers and drops of april rain and butterflies fluttering out of Hazel's mouth and her supple lips. So it seemed to Mr. Chuzzlewit, for it was comfort when she spoke, her eyes examining the book.

"What is that about?" She asked pointedly, for it was surely an innuendo, and very symbolic of something. The end game was met, and Martin would have to defend himself against this onslaught by someone he had previously considered a very naieve and placid silent victim of his sizzling afternoon escapades with Pedro.

"It's by Normal Mailer. I do not know what it is about but it's very symbolic and literary." He said. He thought he could feel his pores producing a sweat that would soon break from them. A sweat that would betray him and name him traitor, the sweat that Judas must have sweated when he asked Jesus to pass the mashed potatoes. The mashed potatoes that had a little too much salt in them.

"I see. You're very clever to read that. I wish I were clever like you, perhaps I will be someday. I'm just reading this novel by Virginia Woolfe." Mrs. Chuzzlewit said pointedly.

"Virginia Woolfe?" Her husband asked with a bit of a gulp. He knew it had to be some sort of jab at him. Perhaps Virginia Woolfe's husband had fooled around with a lusty Guatemalan groundskeeper as well. Perhaps not. He did not know and it terrified him.

"Yes. It's about a woman who thought she saw the queen of England one time, I think. Anyhow it's very literary and intelligent. It's clever, but surely not as clever as your book." She said. Were her words innocent? Perhaps she didn't know. Perhaps she did and just wanted to watch him squirm. Perhaps she was contemplating forcing him to admit it. Perhaps she was milling over the idea of a menage a trois. Perhaps she wanted a ham sandwhich. Mr. Chuzzlewit didn't know, and it terrified him.

"Yes." He said. "I think that we are both very literary and clever, and so is Pedro." He said, realizing the error of his statement almost as soon as it had left his mouth, like a cat who, coughing up a hair ball, looks at it with disgust and walks away. But Martin could not walk away. The hair ball was out, and if Hazel saw it it might never be cleaned up, but would dry on the carpet, and be an eye sore.

"Yes." His wife said with a smile. And with that he knew that she did not care about Pedro, and that she knew he was loyal to her despite what he had done in the toolshed. But Hazel was covering for herself as well. For she had been having relations on Mr. Chuzzlewit's easy chair not ten minutes before, and she had other secrets as well. But for now she was not a lecherous woman worthy of wearing the scarlet letter A. No, she was very literary and clever, and she could keep her husband off guard by saying things that could be misinterpreted as being meaningful.

But how long would she be able to carry on her perverse affections before her husband found out? And was she really literary and clever? Or was she just a character in a very pretentious novel that could pass for an overwritten soap opera? She did not know, and it terrified her.

She did not wish to face such things, nor did Mr. Chuzzlewit. They were happy with their easy chair affairs and their cleft palated love slaves. Mrs. Chuzzlewit knew that one wrong move on her part would be very symbolic and interpretive and mean a great deal in some very silly way, like the way that a man walks when he has had two glasses of brandy and not quite finished the second one but just sipped at it and left enough to coat the bottom of the glass but he could still get another mouth full if he tried, maybe.

Hazel was very much like that man in a very meaningful and metaphorical way. And she wanted to keep the brandy in the glass, for she might be thirsty after lunch. Thinking of this she realized her way out of the symbolic and uncomfortable silence that had descended. She did not know that Martin was busy thinking of how he could next meet with Pedro and not be caught by Mrs. Chitterly who lived in the flat behind the tool shed in a blue Victorian era house and was very suspicious of him.

No, she just wanted a safe way out that couldn't be taken as being meaningful and interesting. And so she tried to say something. "Let's go have a ham sandwhich." She said in the way that a dying man will ask what time it is. Mr. Chuzzlewit just looked at her, for he had percieved something in her words that only someone who was very literary and clever could notice.

In that moment Hazel saw that she had made a mistake. Was the ham sandwhich symbolic of their children or of their fidelity? Did her request to get a kind of sandwhich that she knew Martin disliked reveal her own selfish goals in their relationship? Did she have selfish goals for their relationship? Would she put swiss cheese or provolone on her sandwhich? Would the bread on the sandwhich be representative of Mrs. Chitterly? And what would the swiss cheese signify? She did not know, and it terrified her.

This post has been edited by J m HofMarN: 03 April 2005 - 12:28 AM

[Just your average movie goer]

Ah. I see these things are still going. Good solid performances by the regular columnists, Mad Rabbit and JM.

Your written style seemed remarkably more consistent in that piece, JM. Good work.