LIONARTist Big Idea Page 7

Posted: Dec 10 2005 @ 05:47 PM
by: back_gammon
Lots of room in this thread, IMHO. Lucky's doing art-house crowd stuff, Slap's doing noir, other's are doing great action and suspense, I'm doing Kung-Fu genre - and there's still other market niches begging for some really really awful writing.

Posted: Dec 10 2005 @ 07:07 PM
by: back_gammon
...The neck of Anna turned to see a redshirt being escorted out of the joint by the security guard who was drunk and disorderly. Last call. Now or never time in never never land. “Teach me.” Anna blurted out to Shaolin Sawyer. Pleading was all the evidence of desperation, but her chin came out of her like a determined Doberman. “I want to know---” A big commotion was happening off over there. Two more voices of the redshirts reached the ears of everyone arguing over the music of the record player. …ooooohhh hoooooo witchy woman… started up real loud all of a sudden. ….mooon in her eyyyyeeees…Shaolin Sawyer stopped masticating the plate she’d slid before him of-fried abalone picante.“Well if it aint Teeth Almighty,” he drawled. The dimples of Sawyer got deep and his eyes went all lazy and sexy on her, but barreling through the rowdy crowd with two tall drinks and back toward the table was Slappy. Not looking happy. At all...

Posted: Dec 10 2005 @ 07:08 PM
by: Jh_film
In the djungleI saw a man, big, tired,He was sitting on a black rock,holding a white chocolate bar in his hand,it was half eatenI asked: "Does it taste good?""It taste awesome, dude!" the man replied"I like it, i prefer dark chocolate, but dude, we are all on this island and good food in running short!"- Stephen Crane- Revised by JH-film

Posted: Dec 10 2005 @ 08:00 PM
by: lucky4me8
In which we learn more, yet less, of the real Rousseau“What? Are you yanking my chain?” sputtered Sayid to the crazed French woman, who was, in fact, attempting to release his rusty, chained manacle, not to be confused with the rusty monocle on a chain dangling from her neck, nor with the crusty barnacle mangled in her hair. “You’re not the real Rousseau?”“Yes and no,” the uncannily Rousseauesque creature confided with candor. She filled a Calabash Turkish pipe with tobacco, the serpentine mahogany handle clamped in her unusually white teeth. “Identity theft pre-dates the Black Rock, mon ami.” Danielle-who-was-not-Danielle-but-Justine batted her spidery eyelashes, revealing an empty socket. “I had a bit of a checkered past in the Netherlands, so I used the situation to my advantage.”“I’m stunned,” said Sayid, stunned. He broke off a nearby stalagmite and tucked it behind his ear. You never could predict when a stalagmite could come in handy. “What about Alex?”“Alex was my wombat hybrid, but I loved her like a child. We were together only one week when they took her, and my heart is still festering.” Her eye pierced Sayid through the thick scented smoke. “But you said you gave birth to her,” Sayid said, both less and more confused.“Ha!” said Danielle-who-was-not-Danielle-but-someone-else-entirely. “That part is true. I bred her in the lab.” Her eye gleamed, unblinking. “When I buried Montaigne’s arm,” she continued, leaning forward on the rock and removing her pipe, “I kept his left thumb.”Sayid was momentarily distracted by a quick, grim calculation of how impossibly small the quarter-inch replica of Montaigne’s left thumb would inevitably be. Still, he had never been one to shrink from artistic challenge and this time would be no different… Danielle-Justine blinked rapidly, sudden asymmetrical brightness reflected in her dangling monocle like a strobe light in a Tehran disco. This had a strangely hypnotic effect, and he made a note to add this to his own bag of tricks. He shook off grandiose blueprints for an exquisitely small diorama of the Dark Territory battle scene that suddenly appeared fully formed inside his mind.“What do you mean, hybrid?” Sayid asked, almost without speaking. “You have trans-genetics in the Middle East too, non?” his hostess propped up her shoeless bare feet on a nearby auger and snuggled into her rock.“So you are a scientist?” Sayid ran his fingers through his hair, palming the stalagmite.“I am now,” she replied, and somehow winked with one eye.

Posted: Dec 10 2005 @ 08:29 PM
by: MeSlapMeThrowRock
BG, Slappy better start being happy again or BG will be very sad indeed.

Posted: Dec 10 2005 @ 08:32 PM
by: MeSlapMeThrowRock
Lucky, you are bad, real bad, like a bad hairdo designed by a drunk on a shoestring bad.

Posted: Dec 10 2005 @ 08:39 PM
by: back_gammon
BG, Slappy better start being happy again or BG will be very sad indeed.
Not to worry. It's just a little cliff.........hanger


Posted: Dec 10 2005 @ 08:40 PM
by: lucky4me8
Lucky, you are bad, real bad, like a bad hairdo designed by a drunk on a shoestring bad.
Why thank you, Slap. Don't worry, I know I can be worse.

Posted: Dec 10 2005 @ 09:23 PM
by: Arthas57
No, I didn't read the entier 90 pages of this thread but..." he viewed Kate, running fast towards the spot where he now stood. She was running very fast. He could tell she was running fast."made me want to rip my eyes out.That will be all.

Posted: Dec 10 2005 @ 09:25 PM
by: MeSlapMeThrowRock
The Ponce, the Baldy, and the Wardrobe
Charlie looked up from his fingers that he had been wiggling poncily in rhythm to the haunting music emanating from Locke’s viola that he had fashioned from mango skins and strands of Shannon’s hair. Charlie had been appalled at first as English gits are wont to be, but he thought about it twice and then thrice but not fourth for that was too much thinking that Shannon wouldn’t be using her hair anymore. She was dead. Dead like Charlie’s dismal career and the rotting, pulsing roots of his teeth. You couldn’t get much deader than that and just when you thought that was true, you could. Locke knew more about death than he cared to endeavor. He’d lost a kidney to it. Lost it like you lose something that you can’t find and just when you think you’ve looked everywhere it’s not there. At least he still had his thirty dollars. Locke misted to himself, while laying down his Shannon-mango viola, that money was his only true friend. A true friend like a cold knife on a warm and steamy night in a dingy jail cell. Charlie ponced up when Locke suddenly galumphed, “Money! Show me the money!” Poncing over to Locke, Charlie wiggled his fingers in front of Locke to mesmerize him into eternity for men. Arsing down on the chair, Charlie contemplated his bloody bollocks while Locke stared at Charlie’s poncy fingers. That’s how Claire found them, poncing and arsing. Poncing and arsing like a bad Broadway musical written by Alistair Simms’ ghost.Claire had been seeking for Locke. Seeking like a lighthouse seeks for a ship passing lonely in the foggy bottom of the evening mist on a dark and stormy night. Charlie spotted Claire and immediately stopped arsing and poncing his fingers unmesmerizing Locke’s staring eyes. Locke’s eyes looked bad, real bad to Claire. Bad like her ex-boyfriend liked her in bed in their ex-flat that smelled of expensive women and cheap booze. She advanced on Locke in a tic-tac-toe fashion and beseeched, “Can you show me how to make a wardrobe for Aaron?”Locke searched upwards towards Claire’s face and moving mouth from his fetal position on the hard, dry ground. Dry like the ginger ale from Canada that a drunk throws in your face screaming, “where’s my scotch?” Canada, like the place Ethan Rom said he came from before the bloody poncing, arsing Charlie drilled him with forty-two bullets and a hand grenade. Just like Sunday dinner with the in-laws who were too knackered to defend themselves. Locke lifted himself up by his boot straps and tumbled over to Claire. Tumbled like a good martini on a bad day. As he tumbled, he was thinking what a swell gal Claire was. The kind of swell a schlub like him could fall for hard and fast and quiet. Quiet like a graveyard in a serial killer’s backyard. Tumbling and blurting, “Claire, the truth that you seek is not far behind you, but cannot be in front of you hidden beneath the many layers of where you search.” Locke tumbled some more, knocking into the tic-tac-toeing Claire.“What does that have to do with the wardrobe for Aaron?” begged a swelling Claire. Begged like a poncing git begs another git down on his luck having lost his will to live and live hard.“The answer you beseek is within you and cannot be released until you speak it,” countered Locke knowingly and without a clue. “What the bloody sod does that mean?” vomited Charlie the git with the wiggling fingers of mermerization.“It means what it is and what shall always be,” threw Locke while tumbling back to Charlie’s arsing position. Claire shook her haloed head as only a swell gal that Locke could fall for hard and fast and quiet could, while tic-tac-toeing back to the winding beach of frolic and mystery.To be continued…

Posted: Dec 10 2005 @ 09:28 PM
by: Arthas57
What's with all the weird...words?Poncing? Galumphed? Bollocks? Arsing?Probably English (like...England) Words?

Posted: Dec 10 2005 @ 09:58 PM
by: MeSlapMeThrowRock
Look at the subject title.

Posted: Dec 10 2005 @ 09:58 PM
by: back_gammon
…No fool, Shaolin Sawyer. Seeing the storm abrewing, the arm of Sawyer, moaning at the elbow, gave the hip of Anna a quick and precisely phrased shove. Just hard enough. To send her back into the center of the crowd of the last call howlers. Forged in steel and inscribed he wasn’t for nothing.….mooon in her eyyyyeeees…And straight into the arms of Hurley, who on that particular night was all about gettin’ his drink on, island style.“Anna! Baby! I’m amazed!” Hurley bent his cheek toward hers. He was a little worried about the teeth, but what the heck. “Amazed?” Anna’s anger felt his fingers all over hers. Frustrated by the lengthy interruption of her question to Shaolin Sawyer, the agapeness of Hurley began to agitate her, too! Without knowing it was happening, she burst into a puddle of tears. Even with his drink on, Hurley could be more or less than a perfect gentleman. Gathering the puddle of Anna in his arms, he did what he thought was his duty as a dude and walked her stumbling legs under the big tropical moon outside…

Posted: Dec 11 2005 @ 07:30 AM
by: back_gammon
…Under the big tropical moon, still crying, the ears of Hurley was listening as Anna poured her heart out over him about the crash, the children’s abduction, her hell-hood as a cop of vengeance “Teach me, teach me,” kept coming up over and over again. Fearing she was going all Lenny or something and in urgent need of some good transference, Hurley felt her now exposed calefactor scorching him again and again, fueled by her private hellness. But he couldn’t, not here, not like this, he didn’t want anyone else to know about - they would laugh at him again, for sure - since no body ever believed a word he said.“Teach me, teach me.” The mouth of Anna was begging and begging.Worrying if he was doing the right thing, would she hate him in the morning? Would he hate himself? ….mooon in her eyyyyeeees…Full moon! Oh no!

Posted: Dec 11 2005 @ 08:26 AM
by: LIONARTist
That was Poncing Slaptastic, Queen of the Hats. I laughed long and hard and the blood flowed freely from my cranial lobes.

Posted: Dec 11 2005 @ 09:06 AM
by: back_gammon
…Waking up the next morning, the eyes of Hurley looked and found he was deep into the dark territory. Deep in the belly of the boom, dynamite that is. Just where he wanted to be. If anyone could help Anna, this was the place.“Why did you bring me here?” said Anna. The words spit from her teeth. She was mad, allright.“Don’t you remember like, ‘Teach me, teach me’ last night?” said Hurley. “I’m known as something of a warrior back home, and I – ““You?” Anna’s lips snarled downward, dragging the rest of her attitude with it.Suddenly, leaping up out of the jungle, a guy with bushy black eye-brows with only one arm and a big sword appeared. He had a French accent, and made that silk rustling sound, but a picture is worth a thousand words:http://www.sea.fi/foto/new%20one-armed%20swordsman.jpg“Montaigne!” Hurley was so happy to see his secret warrior buddy. Still, there was that sword thing, so he kept his distance and bowed to Montaigne, politely. “Dude, I’ve brought someone who wants to learn kung fu. Begging all night, teach me, teach me.”Montaigne’s eyes took in Anna. “Hurley, old friend, I don’t think so. She is not worthy.”Anna got up in Montaigne’s face. “And just why not!” She was in the losing it stage.Turning away, Montaigne said over his calm shoulder, “Because you’ve got the moon in your eyes….”

Posted: Dec 11 2005 @ 10:16 AM
by: back_gammon
george got stuck on the rinse cycle again

Posted: Dec 11 2005 @ 11:28 AM
by: captainaeon

ANA-LUCIA REMEMBERS...Ana-Lucia sat alone on the beach made of sand. It had been hours since she had killed anybody dead, yet no one had forgiven her yet. “I am all alone,” her thoughts thought to themselves. “This is the alonest I have ever been. And I have been plenty alone, missy, let me tell you!” A loud whooshing sound and she was rememberizing a time long ago...“Ana-Lucia!” She was 8 years old and a little girl, sitting in her ‘special’ place under the porch. She gazed fixedly into the box she held in her hands, both of them. Malibu Barbie heads, their blonde hair so pretty! so shiny! shining like some blonde, shiny things. Now she had 4. But soon she would have 8. Then, 15, 16, 23, 42. Maybe someday, she could even have 108... “Ana--Lucia!!!”Her mother was calling her to dinner. Her favorite, Baskettios...She entered the kitchen. Smells filled her nose of pasta and cheese. She sat at the table and began to eat her swinging legs under the table.“ I have to leave for my shift soon, honey,” her mother was saying. She stood before her daughter wearing her dark blue uniform, black boots and police badge. Strapped to her hip was a gun of metal enclosed and resting in a gunbelt made of leather and justice. Ana-Lucia thought she looked like the princess.“When your cousin Hurley gets here, try to get him to eat something,” her mother’s talking mouth was saying. “That boy is too skinny.”“Mommy,” Ana said, tomato sauce dripping from her chin of determination. “Someday when I grow up, I’m going to be a police lady just like you...” Her mother smiled an ambiguous smile. “And carry a gun. And only shoot people on purpose!”On purpose...On purpose...The words echoed again and again, silently in her remembering brain.But Ana had not shot the blonde (so pretty! so shiny!) woman ‘on purpose’. She had shot her ‘on accident’. Cops didn’t make accidents, and now she was living with the consequentials.Would the other survivors ever understand her long, tortuous tale of ennui and forgive her?She looked down the beach and saw a woman holding a baby. The woman had blonde hair. So pretty... So shiny...

Posted: Dec 11 2005 @ 11:32 AM
by: MeSlapMeThrowRock
I fear for the safety of Claire.

Posted: Dec 11 2005 @ 11:34 AM
by: captainaeon
I fear for the safety of Claire.
Be afeared. Be very afeared...

Posted: Dec 11 2005 @ 11:34 AM
by: JacknSawyermmm
oooooo - I can't wait to hear more.She sat at the table and began to eat her swinging legs under the table.So they fought back, eh? Keep up the good work

Posted: Dec 11 2005 @ 11:59 AM
by: back_gammon
She sat at the table and began to eat her swinging legs under the table.
I love it! blonde shiny hair....oooooohhh....

Posted: Dec 11 2005 @ 12:13 PM
by: anna_marie_89
Hey guys i jus thought i would try and write the beginning of an episode so here goes.Episode Name : The Truth is out There. Its a really hot sunny day on the island and we see the sea with little gentle waves.Charlie and Claire are sat with Aaron on the beach.Charlie: " Look Claire ... Im ..Sorry for the way i have been acting about Aaron. I know you do your best by him. Your a fantastic mother...Im just scared thats all. Im scared that we may not get off of this bloody place and im scared i will loose you."Claire: " You wont loose me silly. You and Aaron have been the best thing that has happened to me while been here and allthough we have bee though hell here and trust me... i know its not over yet , you have made it bearable. (Claire takes hold of charlies hand and puts her head on his shoulder).Here we switch to Michael on the computer just after reading the email on the screen that reads "Dad?". Michael : "Walt?"Here we see a fash back of Michaels account of the flight. We see him and walt sat on the plane.Michael : "Look Walt i know you probably dont want anything to do with me ... but i cant help that .. just give it time everything will be ok man ... i promise".The Plane starts to shake and then we see the oxygen masks fal from the roof of the plane and michael shouts at walt to put it on. Walt grabs michaels hand.Back at the computer. Michael types.Michael (typing) : "walt are you ok ?"Walt : "Dad im scared"Michael : where are you ?Walt : A dark place . Help me dad. Help me !The screen of text disapears.Jack enters.Jack : "Michael whats going on"Michael:" Jack you gota help me ... its walt... he was talking to me through the computer... he said he as in a dark place".Jack : "What .. Your'e Sure"Michael: " Man would i make this up"Jack : "I'll get Sayid"We then see Kate and Locke talking on the beach eating fruit.Kate : "What do you think will happen next? What will go wrong... what will happen Locke".Locke: "Fate will happen Kate... Fate and we cant change that.. we have to fight it"Jack appears at the beach.Jack : Hey.. Wheres Sayid?"Kate: I dunno... hes still upset about Shannon"Locke : "Can i be of any assistance doctor"Jack : "Yeah .... Maybe ... Do you know anything about computers Locke"Locke : "This and that... why whats the problem"Jack : Michael somehow got in contact with Walt i was wondering if there was any way that we could find out where that other source of contact is coming from"Kate : What walts ok ? Where is he ?Jack : we dont know yet thats why i need your help Locke.Locke : Wheres michael ? Im best off going alone too many people make it crowded.Jack : With the computer.Locke goes.We see Sayid sat on the beach next to Shannons grave with Vincent.Sayid : I loved her. I loved her so much..... Ive got to help get Walt back.... thats what she would have wanted. Sayid runs into to the jungle leaving vincent to lay next to shannons grave.(What will happen after the break............?)

SOMEONE FINISH OFF THE EPISODE PLEASE !
LOVE ANNA xXxX

Posted: Dec 11 2005 @ 12:59 PM
by: not_onboard
Hey can I post the link here to my crappy fanfic?

Posted: Dec 11 2005 @ 01:03 PM
by: MeSlapMeThrowRock
Hey can I post the link here to my crappy fanfic?
Since Lion is my Mane Man, I don't think he would mind me responding to your question.Here's my response:How crappy is it? Is it worthy of the crapiness within this thread already or will it take the crap to a whole new level? I would love to see the bar lowered even further on the crap barometer. Finally...link away to your heart's content.

Posted: Dec 11 2005 @ 01:28 PM
by: back_gammon
jack be nimble jack be quickjack go under limbo stick...how low can you go....

Posted: Dec 11 2005 @ 01:34 PM
by: back_gammon
News from the island bulletin board:Our island has a nursery school program now; those who have children and don't know about it should see Claire or Locke for more information.

Posted: Dec 11 2005 @ 01:40 PM
by: LIONARTist
Since Lion is my Mane Man, I don't think he would mind me responding to your question.
I love it when she claims me as her own. He said as the stallion galumphed about on all four legs all at once with severity in it's steps.

Posted: Dec 11 2005 @ 01:41 PM
by: MeSlapMeThrowRock
*stomping feet of the Nothers are heard island-wide rushing to the nursery*

Posted: Dec 11 2005 @ 01:42 PM
by: MeSlapMeThrowRock
I love it when she claims me as her own. He said as the stallion galumphed about on all four legs all at once with severity in it's steps.
You big galumph, you.