<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2712872556419020419</id><updated>2011-04-21T14:08:49.498-05:00</updated><category term='Mandom'/><category term='December 2005'/><title type='text'>The LOST Home for Bad Fiction</title><subtitle type='html'>Put down your coffee cup, sit back, and get ready to laugh - no - make that howl.  Here it is. The LOST Permanent Home for Really Bad Fan Fiction.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thelosthomeforbadfiction.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2712872556419020419/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thelosthomeforbadfiction.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>back_gammon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14451548657665179875</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://i18.tinypic.com/2preg6f.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>12</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2712872556419020419.post-5207979463871339551</id><published>2007-01-20T23:01:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-01-20T23:11:16.335-05:00</updated><title type='text'>LIONARTist Big Idea Page 9</title><content type='html'>Posted: Dec 12 2005 @ 08:24 AM&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;by: back_gammon&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;cont...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sun’s thoughts raced while she threw on some clothes. If she could just make it out the front door…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fully dressed now, she tiptoed out into the hallway and as close to the living room as she dared. What were Jin and her father doing? Why were they whispering now?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly she heard them over by the front door. Jin was bidding her father a hasty goodnight, and she soon heard his footsteps coming back across the living room. Sun dashed into the bedroom, sat on the edge of the bed, and composed herself as best she could.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Soon enough, Jin walked in, smiling that dangerous smile of his. But what was he holding, hidden behind his back? She closed her eyes. She could smell the jasmine scented soap faintly still on the last traces of dissipating shower steam.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jin kissed her. And then he kissed her again. “Open your eyes, Sun.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jin had the biggest grin on his face. “I’m sorry Bo-po ruined your surprise for me.” He held up the trashy lingerie which was chewed and shredded. “You must take Bo-po to obedience school before he tears up any more of your good surprises.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sun almost collapsed with relief. What glorious fools husbands and wives had to pretend to be to keep their marriages from falling apart. But that did it. No more Fifi Velour. Her heart couldn’t take any more surprises.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But that didn’t mean her husband couldn’t. She smiled wickedly at Jin. “Speaking of obedience school…”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 12 2005 @ 10:09 AM&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;by: LIONARTist&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;SUN BURN&lt;br /&gt;Chapter 3&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Claire had gotten Jack and Jack had gotten back to where Sun knelt with both knees holding Charlie's hand with both of her hands in a helping gesture.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What is wrong with Charlie now!" Bellowed Jack, in his authoritatively strong and masculine doctor voice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It was the mangos", replied Sun. "They must've gestated in Claire's stomach lining and created a toxic gas to which Charlie is extremely and deathly allergic to".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"We've got to get Charlie into the hatch!" Shouted Jack.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Why are you shouting" said Claire. "We're right here not 3 feet from each other's persons".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just then Jack gave a rectal honk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh no!" exclaimed Charlie. "Did you have the mangos too?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No" said Jack. "I had the kiwis with cheese and butter sauce. Also asparagus and broccoli".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"God help us" stated Sun, who was now chopping off her own nose with a fishbone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Together, they all ran towards the spot in the jungle where they knew the location of the hatch was just waiting for them to enter into.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As they ran they all got the whistle-britches.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Phwee-toot-poot-belch-Phwee-toot-poot-belch-Phwee-toot-poot-belch-Phwee-toot-poot-belch-Phwee-toot-poot-belch-Phwee-toot-poot-belch-Phwee-toot-poot-belch-Phwee-toot-poot-belch-Phwee-toot-poot-belch-Phwee-toot-poot-belch-Phwee-toot-poot-belch-Phwee-toot-poot-belch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was about 200 yards. But I'll spare you the narrative. Well, maybe just one more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Phwee-toot-poot-belch!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 12 2005 @ 10:18 AM&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;by: captainaeon&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Phwee-toot-poot-belch!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is official!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lion is the King of Gaseous Literary Emissions!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 12 2005 @ 11:00 AM&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;by: LIONARTist&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;SUN BURN&lt;br /&gt;Chapter 4&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As our 4 friends and the babee entered the beginning part of the jungle where the green parts meet with the gritty sand, they all stopped dead in their tracks. Not really dead as in not breathing. Although Charlie was almost to that point. But they were stopping in a very fast manner which halted all movement from their bodies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What's that!" exclaimed Claire!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They all turned and bent at the neck to look with their eyes. (Thanks to Backgammon for that).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Up ahead in the jungle next to some big palm trees, there appeared a big, humongous, gigantic black cloud which swirled in an almost clockwise motion to the gravitational pull of the earth. There accompanied the cloud-like phenomenon, a noise-like phenomenon of epic proportions which sounded like all the machines of the world doing the horizontal mambo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Housenfeffer!" Yelled Jack.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All the others just looked at Jack like he was crazy insane.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just then, Locke stepped out from behind the bushes where the cloud originated from in the location of there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Those mangos sure are sumthin", he threw out for everybody's informational purposes. "I ate about 20".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All of them turned without making a noise or statement of any adjunctory specification, and they ran as fast as their hearts would bear the burden of the blood-pumping into their legs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Where are we going?!!!" Shouted Charlie, above the din which their many running feet and flatulent emenations created.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"To see a man about a Volkswagen" stated Jack, just that matter-of-factly as he pushed out the wind beneath his cheeks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 12 2005 @ 11:08 AM&lt;br /&gt;by: dad_of_4_&lt;br /&gt;lol - jack tooted&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 12 2005 @ 11:12 AM&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;by: back_gammon&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is official!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lion is the King of Gaseous Literary Emissions!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yay though I walk through the valley of cataclysmic emissions converters, I will fear no weavils, nor papayas, for LION's ART will comfort me...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 12 2005 @ 11:58 AM&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;by: Hatchcrazy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;This thread is more fun than eating twenty mangoes!&lt;br /&gt;I love the "they bent at the neck" thing&lt;br /&gt;and also LION had me absolutely dying at:&lt;br /&gt;"ress....resessa...recassita....CPR."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THE VOLCANO HAS A HISSY-FIT&lt;br /&gt;----------------or---------------------&lt;br /&gt;Embittered coolant for a new world&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;''''''''''''''''''''''''Sure, Hanso had said that there was a volcagno. Hanso said a lot of things. Like 'I like chocolate lollipops' and 'Get me that roll of paper towels, b!tch!' Yeah, Alvar was pretty much fried at this point. But he still could bring it during stockholder meetings "I want to see that p\e ratio up or I will rip out your gonads with a gardening tool!!" and at his botany club meetings "I want a bag of african violet mix pronto or I will rip out your gonads with...with..." he looked around the room fugitively. His eye fell down the desk. "With this letter opener!!Scum!"&lt;br /&gt;''''''''''''''''''''''''''But now,now was the time of time being short for him, not midget short but still the October of his years...he still had leaves on his tree (EEEEEWWW!!). He had a good man in mind for a mission. A mission of hope. Hope and Faith. Faithful hope. Hopeful Faith. He needed a percodan.&lt;br /&gt;''''''''''''''''''''''''''Into Alvar Hanso's office walked a tall, handome man with keen eyes. Eyes that could fool you for twenty days or so. "You'll be meeting him at the Tehrani Disco." Hanso said. "I hate that place!" keen eyes said."All they have for food is khlauogh khalosch!" "You don't have to go win, he'll be in his car in the parking lot. Get in, he'll ask for the password. After that , your on your own." Hanso stroked and curled his invisible beard with his indivisible hands. "He will ask 'what did one showman say to the other showman? Do you know what to say?"&lt;br /&gt;"Yes" Goodwin replied "Do you smell contracts?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NEXT: E PLURIBUS UNUM; A CWAZY ISLAND MASH-UP!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 12 2005 @ 01:04 PM&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;by: Hatchcrazy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was up on all fours now whimpering softly. She looked at the yellow lab. His beautiful brown eyes were full of fear and he too was on all fours.&lt;br /&gt;...............................................................&lt;br /&gt;"Nasty gash you got there. Does it hurt?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yiiiiiiiii!!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;This is like two modifiers away from becoming a doggy island porno.&lt;br /&gt;(page 8)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 12 2005 @ 02:01 PM&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;by: LIONARTist&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SUN BURN&lt;br /&gt;Chapter 5&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sun ran on alone. She had managed to ditch the others by faking an old war wound injury.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh, my old war wound injury!" she had said. "You go that way around the old caves and I'll meet you later. Here's my REAL telephone number in case I don't see you".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now she was running in the opposite direction, down the beach. She had lost her shoes and the sand was so hot you could fry a gritty sandy egg on it, if you wanted to have sand in your stomach along with your fried egg.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Ow-ow-ow-ow!" she cried with each burning step. Her colon began to rumble again.&lt;br /&gt;"Ow-toot-ow-toot-ow-toot-ow-toot!"&lt;br /&gt;Sun was making quite a spectacle of herself as she trotted and tooted down the hot gritty sandy beach.&lt;br /&gt;Sand was being blown in all directions behind her from the force of her expulsions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just then Jin stepped out from behind a big rock. It was big enough to where Sun couldn't see what he was doing behind the back side of it and she wondered about this fact as she ran.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"JIN!" she yelped. "JIN!" she bajorba-ed. "JIN!" she bellowed, with masticating actions in her dental department.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What?" Jin finely answered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Did you eat the mangos?!!!" Sun inquired in a hasteful gesture of suspisciousity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His answer came just as the two lovers met in a bearhug of gentle but raucous admiration.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yes" he said as they both exploded in a messy pulpish grotesque jamboree of flesh and bone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It made this noise - "poot".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 12 2005 @ 03:28 PM&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;by: Hatchcrazy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;E PLURIBUS UNUM: A KWAZY ISLAND MASH-UP!&lt;br /&gt;-----------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;''''''''''''''''''''''''''The chart. The chart had revealed all like a window reveal holding some veal. That's a lotta veal. Marvin had looked at this thing from all angels and it pointed only to at the one solution. Not just four people, but dozens, forty eight to be precise would be the missing link to the bridge over the river kwai circling the circle of life. He knew he knew this, but why? He glanced off the computer printout but all it said was: "tHis thREAd OwNEd bY AdeE!" of which he could make nothing. When they were all on the island then Hanso would get off his back and back into his tinted window office building.&lt;br /&gt;''''''''''''''''''''''''The chart charted the steps nessassarry to build the perfect human. A piece here, a peice there, and soon you had a doctor/tracker/warrior/soldier/blonde/bass-playing/Korean/ that would be immune from the sickness and able to leap tall plot lines with ease. Also they would 'poosh de button' as Danielle kept kneading him. There was something about her.....something French. He couldn't put his finger on it because it got eaten by Hanso's stupid talking Ape. The Ape didn't even apologise, which really rankled. Marvin sighed a long time than those sighs were meant to be, but still it irked. The bald man would be the hardest, and the baldest. He looked at the shaver with it's quadruple blades. What man could resist this? What manner of man, indeed. Hanso was going to have to get his own chicken tempura from now on. Marvin was movin' on up, lifting it up, to a deluxe apartment in a high rise. He'd finally got a piece of the pie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NEXT: BUTTERCUP OR BUTTAFUOCO?&lt;br /&gt;----------------------or------------------------&lt;br /&gt;Why does this plane have a bulls-eye on the bottom?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 12 2005 @ 08:41 PM&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;by: MeSlapMeThrowRock&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;The Incident at Tomahawk Ridge&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Weepy Jack leaned over the glistening, heaving chest of Sawyer with admiration and a little lust; Jack was a man, after all. Jack thought he heard Sawyer whisper something, not literally “something”, but something else…not “something else”, but…nevermind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I love her,” maimed Sawyer intensively. “I love her,” he repeated again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“What?” Jack coerced and cajoled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Who do you love?” Bo Diddley inquired.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Hey Bo Diddley.” Jack be nimbled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kate sneaked in at that moment and exploded Bo Diddley right before Jack’s weeping eyes with a gas pipe and big blow torch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Why did you do that?” Jack thwarted galumphingly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“For the insurance,” Kate parried with a flick of her machete. “Just give me an hour before you start crying again.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“What insurance?” Jack be spryed. He eyed Kate with his eyes and thought she was one dangerous gal with his mind. He commented what he should do next, unfortunately Kate heard his comment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Why are you commenting what you should do next?” Kate sliced the air of tension with her carving knife. She took a step away from Jack who was spry and nimble much like Harrison Ford and the Millennium Falcon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I didn’t mean to comment, I meant to contemplate,” retorted Jack retortfully and somewhat regretfully.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Why are you saying that somewhat regretfully?” machine-gunned Kate looking at him with eyes of steel and some gold plating.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I didn’t say that out loud. You’re reading my speech descriptors,” Jack said mutedly lest Kate hear him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Immediately, there was moaning that drew their attention; it was coming from the floor. That confused Jack further then he had ever been confused before and boy had he been confused before now as in the present circumstances.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kate knew what the moaning meant; she had heard this moaning before like in the past, not the present time. It reminded her of time she blowed up Roy Orbison. Although, if she were honest with herself she would have to admit that Roy’s moaning was more high pitched than Bo’s was, but Kate couldn’t be honest even with herself so she went back and erased her memory descriptor lest she hear herself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Man, that was a close call,” Kate sliced and diced to herself. Lies were all she could hold onto. All she could trust in this world…island. That and Jack’s weepiness. And her murderous streak. And her attraction to Sawyer…and Jack. And her relationship with Sayid whose technologies she enjoyed breaking. She thought as she clamped her hand over Bo’s nose and mouth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“What are you doing, Kate? He’s still breathing!” exclaimed Jack with an exclamation pointing at Kate with fear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kate knocked the pointing exclamation out of Jack’s hands with her baseball bat reminding her of the time she and Tom kissed. “Jack, I am perfectly aware of what I’m doing and as a doctor you should understand that,” pureed Kate slurpily.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“First of all, slurpily is not even a word. Thricely, I have killed plenty of patients and you have to nick the hepatic artery,” wept Jack hysterically and with emotion and stoicism. He moved towards Kate in an emotionally bereft manner, tripping over the gas pipe she had discarded like a pair of dirty old underwear from an eighty-year old man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I heard that,” dissected Kate in that way women do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Heard what?” moaned Jack…no, not moaned, that would get him killed…emoted Jack. There, that’s better, Jack thought to himself just like Harrison Ford would.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I heard you fall on the gas pipe I used to blow up Bo with,” tortured Kate woefully and with a snap of her fingers. She hoped Jack didn’t hear the snap of fingers that were hers for that would reveal her true lustful feelings for Sawyer to Jack.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Of course you heard me fall on it. You saw me fall on it too, unless you’ve slept with a hooker recently and you are farsighted,” doctored Jack knowingly and without remorse. He wanted to also say “Unagi” wisely, but he was aware like no one’s business that Kate had not attended college and would not understand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“It means salmon skin roll and you’ve just ruined the secret Santa gift I was going to give you,” battered Kate while smothering the life out of Bo who knew too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That made Jack cry and weep uncontrollably while leaking from his eyes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To be continued...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 13 2005 @ 06:33 AM&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;by: LIONARTist&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;like a pair of dirty old underwear from an eighty-year old man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was wondering where those had got to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 13 2005 @ 06:33 AM&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;by: LIONARTist&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;One of the worst yet, Slap. I wept.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 13 2005 @ 07:13 AM&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;by: LIONARTist&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That confused Jack further then he had ever been confused before and boy had he been confused before now as in the present circumstances.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Slaaaap. You're sounding like some other people we know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THEN&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. At that time: I was still in school then. Come at noon; I'll be ready then.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Next in time, space, or order; immediately afterward: watched the late movie and then went to bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. In addition; moreover; besides: It costs $20, and then there's the sales tax to pay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Used after but to qualify or balance a preceding statement: The star was nervous, but then who isn't on the first night of a new play.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. In that case; accordingly: If traffic is heavy, then allow extra time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. As a consequence; therefore: The case, then, is closed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THAN&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Used after a comparative adjective or adverb to introduce the second element or clause of an unequal comparison: She is a better athlete than I.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Used to introduce the second element after certain words indicating difference: He draws quite differently than she does.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. When. Used especially after hardly and scarcely: I had scarcely walked in the door than the commotion started.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Asshattiness took over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 13 2005 @ 08:55 AM&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;by: LIONARTist&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;I don't want to be dissin any gay cowboys. But shouldn't that movie be called "Bare Butt Mounting"?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 13 2005 @ 09:53 AM&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;by: back_gammon&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;We interrupt this escalating thread of obfuscating fiction for a biased opinion disguised as a news report.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am just thrilled that one of my all time favorite mad geniuses, Stephen Chow Sing-Chi, has just received a golden globe nomination. His 2004 film, Kung Fu (aka Kung Fu Hustle), which he wrote, directed, starred in, as well as produced, has been nominated for best foreign film.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's a link if anyone is interested.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;http://www.lovehkfilm.com/reviews_2/kung_fu_hustle.htm&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now back to our regular programming...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 13 2005 @ 10:15 AM&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;by: LIONARTist&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I loved Kung Fu Hustle. The part where they were trying to throw the knives had me on the floor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 13 2005 @ 12:01 PM&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;by: back_gammon &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;Growing the Wrong Way&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Growing the wrong way, the shiny razors of Dr. Jack was not needed for hairs that was, in fact, curling inward on the island, which nobody knew where they were.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But Locke, being the only one else, always had to put in his two boars, since he’d clearly lost his oars. The water was boiling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Jack!” Locke’s lips proclaimed themselves. The legs of Locke was good and sturdy today. His two bluish colored eyes was all bleached out from the brutal blaring of the sun, but his dome on the beach was tanned to perfection.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Locke!” The mouth of Jack retorted back. Staring at the shiny razors, both hands reached for the strap of sharpening. No shaky hands for Jack so near the boiling water.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sayid walked up, on the side of Jack. “So you are preparing to scrape the hairs from the two boars, perhaps in preparation for tanning the hide and fashioning some exquisitely beautiful high-heeled sandals?” His look at me lips quivered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Oh!” The mouth of Locke quickly discharged and spat out his confusion. Did Sayid have a foot fetish, his mouth wanted to know?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Huh?” the tanned neck of Jack coiled in a tight rope of tension.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly, a loud long – somewhere – agonizing grunt-like – over there - scream was heard by the men off in the bushes...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cont…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 13 2005 @ 01:20 PM&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;by: MeSlapMeThrowRock&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Incident at Tomahawk Ridge (continued)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Dud, is Bo Diddley breathing under the tarp?" Hurley galumphed frequently. He continued digging the grave of Bo, but with less behemoth than before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Bo is not bloody breathing, Hurley! When Kate kills someone, they stay dead," screeched Charlie in that poncy way of his while spitting mango bits from between his teeth or rotting humps of ivory as Charlie affectionately referred to his mandibular partitions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hurley dodged the mango bits emitting from Charlie's mandibular partitions in his spry, but choking manner. "Yeah dud, about Ethan..." Hurley started startledly in his stop and go fashion of the 80s.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hurley! Pay bloody attention! Ethan's dead, Bo is dead and your not a millionaire," ponced Charlie bollocky while arsing with the shovel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I am a millionaire, Hurley seamed to himself in that stitch-splitting way he had with his thoughts. Maybe Charlie's wrong about Ethan and Bo, Hurley sighed heavily with girth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hurley! I heard that stitch-splitting you were doing and you are not a bloody poncing, arsing millionaire!" rotting teeth Charlie annoyed vehemently speaking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Dud, I didn't say anything," churned Hurley like butter and goat's milk moving into his ninja stance in case Charlie had recently eaten some shrapnel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Charlie moved into his girly runway pose just in case Hurley was flirting with him. "Your bloody stitch-splitting gave your inner thoughts away," spit Charlie with major amounts of ham projectiling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Good lord, Hurley...if you won't off the little runt, I will!" cursed Bo Diddley from beyond the grave...ten feet beyond the grave under the tarp and through the looking glass to grandma's house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"DUD!! I told you!" elephanted Hurley peanuttily while Charlie started stabbing coconuts out of fear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly there is a rustling in the trees nearby and Sayid appeared carrying a gaggle of shell phones he was developing for god knows what reason.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Charlie, I too have been through a traumatic event of biblical proportions and violence against coconuts is not the answer," Sayid torturiously danced while swinging his numchucks about only how an ex-Republican can do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Charlie was stunned, but what else was new. "Sayid! Don't just dance there swinging your numchucks about like an ex-Republican...tell Hurley he's not a millionaire," bloodied arsing Charlie impetiously bedeckled like a leprachan high on maryjane.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sayid discontinued dancing and swinging his numchucks just in time to deflect a piece of shrapnel ejecting from Charlie's mandibular partition.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hurley was glad he had remained in his ninja stance...it saved his life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To be continued...or not&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 13 2005 @ 02:05 PM&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;by: back_gammon&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cont…&lt;br /&gt;...From the loins down with their powerful buttocks well exercised, Jack, Locke, and Sayid tore off glistening toward the bushes. Big green leaves slapped at their powerful thighs, making a sound like snapping towels in a locker room. But the agonizing grunting was all gone by the time they arrived.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Squatting down, they found Hurley trying to put on some dignified air. It was the last can of aerosol dignified air and Hurley quickly hid it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Hurley, why did you scream?” questioned the always probing Sayid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Look!” Hurley pointed at the jungle floor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All eyes looking there, a pair of toes peeked out from the jungle floor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“What!” said Sayid, Locke, and Jack in unison! "What is that??!!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Collapsing their pelvises to see better, all four men looked hard before rocking back on their heels in a swoon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Toes, beautifully manicured toes, growing upward, just breaking through the surface of the rich, moist, fertile, loam of the jungle floor...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 13 2005 @ 03:36 PM&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;by: captainaeon&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Collapsing their pelvises to see better, all four men looked hard before rocking back on their heels in a swoon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Toes, beautifully manicured toes, growing upward, just breaking through the surface of the rich, moist, fertile, loam of the jungle floor...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You have leapt high into the air and landed back on the ground somewhere between Salvadore Dali and Robert Maplethorpe!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Must have more...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 13 2005 @ 03:38 PM&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;by: MeSlapMeThrowRock&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ROTFLMAO&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 13 2005 @ 06:02 PM&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;by: back_gammon&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;cont…&lt;br /&gt;Sayid was the first to recover from the group swoon because of long military training and extensive practice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Crawling on all fours toward the toes, thighs glistening like oiled gladiators, nothing appeared dirty to Sayid. Just toes. Pristine toes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Arousing next, Hurley came close behind Sayid. Perhaps because he was something of a warrior himself and not afraid, he reached between them with his index finger. Dry. Dry as a bone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Groaning and moaning together, Locke and Jack were the last to revive. Not to be outdone by Sayid and Hurley, Locke quickly crawled forward and gave each a sniff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seeing what was happening, Jack had to get on top of everything. “What do we know now that we didn’t before?” he asked, quickly taking charge and bunching his manly firm thighs and crawling close to reinsert himself in a place of authority.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“The smell is good, said Locke. Sweat was glistening and running down his tanned face and neck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“There is nothing dirty whatsoever,” came Sayid’s pronouncement.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lowering his head by the tightly coiled neck, Jack was trying to examine the nail polish color.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Got any more?” he asked over his shoulder. Beating down from above, the sun burned with intensity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“The toes are all dry in between,” Hurley declared.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly the toes wiggled, this time not sending the men into a swoon, but into a panic. Screaming at the top of their frenzied rock-hard thighs, leaping across logs and puddles and running helter skelter through the thicket, panic stricken, into the jungle without thought or mind to use it, the four men ran, as fast as their bursting lungs would carry them….&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cont…&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2712872556419020419-5207979463871339551?l=thelosthomeforbadfiction.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thelosthomeforbadfiction.blogspot.com/feeds/5207979463871339551/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2712872556419020419&amp;postID=5207979463871339551' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2712872556419020419/posts/default/5207979463871339551'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2712872556419020419/posts/default/5207979463871339551'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thelosthomeforbadfiction.blogspot.com/2007/01/lionartist-big-idea-page-9_20.html' title='LIONARTist Big Idea Page 9'/><author><name>back_gammon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14451548657665179875</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://i18.tinypic.com/2preg6f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2712872556419020419.post-7344875648155095199</id><published>2007-01-11T05:19:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-01-11T05:33:00.989-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Are You Experienced?</title><content type='html'>Forget &lt;a href="http://thelosthomeforbadfiction.blogspot.com/2007/01/mandom.html" target="_blank"&gt;MANDOM!&lt;/a&gt; There's a new smell in town. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Af1OxkFOK18"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Af1OxkFOK18" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2712872556419020419-7344875648155095199?l=thelosthomeforbadfiction.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thelosthomeforbadfiction.blogspot.com/feeds/7344875648155095199/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2712872556419020419&amp;postID=7344875648155095199' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2712872556419020419/posts/default/7344875648155095199'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2712872556419020419/posts/default/7344875648155095199'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thelosthomeforbadfiction.blogspot.com/2007/01/are-you-experienced.html' title='Are You Experienced?'/><author><name>back_gammon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14451548657665179875</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://i18.tinypic.com/2preg6f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2712872556419020419.post-5863339372495462091</id><published>2007-01-05T01:28:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-01-05T01:36:20.505-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Lost on Gilligan's Island</title><content type='html'>&lt;object height="350" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/X13riysl9ng"&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/X13riysl9ng" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This mash up vid by &lt;span style="color:#3333ff;"&gt;forbiddensouldoughnu &lt;/span&gt;is so good I wish I'd thought of it myself.  Actually, I'm just behind on editing the next installment of bad fiction, so I thought I'd post this while I catch up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2712872556419020419-5863339372495462091?l=thelosthomeforbadfiction.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thelosthomeforbadfiction.blogspot.com/feeds/5863339372495462091/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2712872556419020419&amp;postID=5863339372495462091' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2712872556419020419/posts/default/5863339372495462091'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2712872556419020419/posts/default/5863339372495462091'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thelosthomeforbadfiction.blogspot.com/2007/01/lost-on-gilligans-island.html' title='Lost on Gilligan&apos;s Island'/><author><name>back_gammon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14451548657665179875</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://i18.tinypic.com/2preg6f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2712872556419020419.post-8867534318621037246</id><published>2007-01-03T10:07:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-01-06T18:22:02.414-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mandom'/><title type='text'>MANDOM!</title><content type='html'>And now a word from our sponsor, MANDOM!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/CV3gA7hNItY"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/CV3gA7hNItY" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the words of Grady Hendrix at &lt;a href="http://www.kaijushakedown.com/2006/12/trailersnothing.html" target="_blank"&gt;Kaiju Shakedown&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;em&gt;"prepare to feel the top of your skull lift off and your brain hover out and zoom around the room."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2712872556419020419-8867534318621037246?l=thelosthomeforbadfiction.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thelosthomeforbadfiction.blogspot.com/feeds/8867534318621037246/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2712872556419020419&amp;postID=8867534318621037246' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2712872556419020419/posts/default/8867534318621037246'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2712872556419020419/posts/default/8867534318621037246'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thelosthomeforbadfiction.blogspot.com/2007/01/mandom.html' title='MANDOM!'/><author><name>back_gammon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14451548657665179875</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://i18.tinypic.com/2preg6f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2712872556419020419.post-4032729569320766143</id><published>2007-01-01T12:11:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-01-01T12:22:46.775-05:00</updated><title type='text'>LIONARTist Big Idea  Page 8</title><content type='html'>Posted: Dec 11 2005 @ 01:53 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=MeSlapMeThrowRock"&gt;MeSlapMeThrowRock&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;High Laconics&lt;br /&gt;Jack laconically strutted over to Sayid with spurs a-jangling and a-twirling. He wept like cowboys aren’t supposed in the daylight with the spurs cutting grooves in his ankles below the knees. His gun loaded slapped heavingly against his hip underneath his chin of five o’clock shadow. It was only two o’clock, but he was a feminine man with intensive hair growth. The afternoon sun seared off the hot earth under his bleeding strutting feet of cowboy boots. Vultures soared above his weeping head of uncowboy likeness.“Hey pardner,” Jack blubbered laconically to Sayid working on his corral of experimental shell phones. No more pony express for this posse of laconic survivors if Sayid the experimental cowboy had any say and say he did. “Listen mister, we’ve got a problem besides your incessant weepiness,” experimented Sayid in a laconic tone of grey. “It’s allergies to the beating afternoon sun atop my stubbly head,” worried Jack laconically stretching his blooding pool of feet on a shell phone. The vultures above screamed in protest and shame, “Girly!” They kept a-circling the spurred stranger under the menacing sky.“Allergies don’t explain why my shell phones are not picking up any signal. We’re not high enough is the problem,” surmised Sayid in a laconic pool of sweat in his sleeveless fringed undergarment. Jack intensified his look at the experimenter and lifted his spurring ankles from their resting place of comfort and pain. “Pardner, we will need to mosey on over to the plane of Boone’s demise and drugs of Mary,” preparation Jack replied laconically speaking.The vultures overhead of the experimenter and the weepy one looked at each other and soared to the Boone plane of demise ready to round up their carrion since they wouldn’t be checking in any baggage.To be continued…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 11 2005 @ 02:23 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=back_gammon"&gt;back_gammon&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;“Allergies don’t explain why my shell phones are not picking up any signal. We’re not high enough is the problem,” surmised Sayid in a laconic pool of sweat in his sleeveless fringed undergarment.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Somebody call Ang Lee on the shell phone!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 11 2005 @ 02:25 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=mungonna"&gt;mungonna&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;..ahemm....The ocean spat out the green loogie of a bottle at Claires wandering attention. Breathing easier it retreated allowing her to claim the glass of green , where so many hopes had been stored, from the foaming froth of the sea....She knew, oh she knew, what that green glass capsule had meant for everyone, everyone on the island and everyone on the boat. She no longer enjoyed the sunny beach because she knew. She knew what had to be done ....." Charlie, would you please change Aaron's diaper!" she said holding her nose in one hand and hiding the glass of spoiled green hopes behind her back...." Right Mate!" Charlie responded quickly, " I'm on it!"..." I need to go see Shannon about ..some woman problems. Keep an eye out for the Others , will ya?" Claire lied thru her green teeth...." I got your back!" Charlie promised....Claire found Shannon as she was cleaing the jam out from her toenails with a sea urchin quill..." Look what I found!" Claire expressed as she diverted Shannon's focus from the green jam between her big toe toenail...." yea, so whats that got to do with me? Shannon said shrugging her shoulders and curling her mouth into a snarl only worthy of a dead Elvis...." Okay bytch!..Maybe you can tell me where Sun is then. This here green bottle may have meaning for her. She was so green with envy for Jin when the boat left with him." Claire went on without focus... " wait a minute, lets see what these asshats wrote ? Shannon exclaimed as she jumped up and slapped her hands together in glee...".You've got to be kiddin me" Claire said while trying to keep the green with frenzy Shannon away from the green bottle.But Shannon proved too strong and cunning for the still recouperating Claire and soon,,all to soon , the contents of the green glassed bottle were being passed before Shannon's green eyes." heaving bossoms?",,thundering lighting"? " I think I'm gettin,,,BLEEEECCCCK!!!!..Shannon tried to get out as she emptied the green viscous from the bottom of her stomach on to Claires once clean green shirt." HA!..Looks like a bit of Artz there on your lip!" Claire laffed as she flicked the green fleck from Shannons upper lip...." BLEEEEEECCCCK!!!!" repeated Shannon as she doubled over in dry heavedom." Fack You!" Shannon coughed as the green bile dripped from her quivering mouth.......Sun heard the commotion from a short distance and was soon stareing in disbelief at the scene. " This is one of the worse stuff I've ever seen on the island. What is wrong with you people?" She asked as she turned green from the stench....................................&lt;br /&gt;Thats as Low as I am about to go....&lt;br /&gt;MEL&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 11 2005 @ 02:28 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=back_gammon"&gt;back_gammon&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...“Moon in my eyes? What’s that supposed to mean?” The fury of Anna was growing. Schreeching in the trees! Schreech! Schreech! The birds was going wild! “I want to learn Kung Fu and carry buckets of water up thousands of steps, stand on one leg on upended logs for hours at a stretch. I want to learn to leap, kick, spin – ““I think what he’s saying,” Hurley interrupted. He bowed respectfully to Montaigne’s sword, “is you’ve got your head up your arse.” Oh! Anna didn’t think once. Clawing out her right eye and going for the left, only Montaigne’s advanced lightning quick leaping ability stopped her from ruining both eyes. Anna held her right eye in her bleeding hands, offering it to Montaigne. Speechless made by the blood, Hurley was a little woozy. Dude! Didn’t see that one coming.Montaigne stared at the eyeball in the hands of Anna and shook his head. Every sound of the jungle went silent. “What do you think Kung Fu will give you, Anna? What do you want? Revenge? Justice?”“I want revenge, you flying silk-worm moron! Those bass turdz killed my----“Zwhoinnnng! Montaigne drew his sword which was trembling with eagerness to split her vile tongue, and maybe send her looking for a Kung Fu orthodontist to boot. Montaigne was not a man to suffer fools....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 11 2005 @ 03:13 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=thinking_thing"&gt;thinking_thing&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I bough before youre collcetiv grateness!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 11 2005 @ 03:33 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=back_gammon"&gt;back_gammon&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...Montaigne stood with a drawn sword.“What do you think Kung Fu is, Anna?” Montaigne turned to Hurley, who was now slumping against a tree, dropping into the bushes, woozy and going all geezerated from the blood sightation and of the stress. Montaigne sheathed his loins with a last glance at Anna and girded his steel sword “Hurley knows. He is a true warrior. He knows that the highest level of Kung Fu is the absence of the sword in both the heart and mind.” And with that, he leaped away, until even his rustling silk sound was gone. The eye of Anna was looking at the eye of Anna in her bleeding hands. Both still didn’t see the point of Montaigne that he made.“Hurley, what the heck did that guy just say?” She began to cry and snivel, still uncivil, and still a little, too full of self-entitlement, that Anna. “It makes no sense. Just one big box of stupid paradox.” Woozy and geezerating over his behind in the bushes, the seemingly endless patience of Hurley was about to be LOST….&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 11 2005 @ 04:10 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=kharmabites"&gt;kharmabites&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Horribly funny stuff! I love it, like the kind of love the boy in 4th grade has for you, you know, the one who pulls your pigtails and winks at you love, not the kind of love the boy who wipes boogers in your hair has for you, no, that's just gross.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 11 2005 @ 04:47 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=captainaeon"&gt;captainaeon&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Charlie was dreaming he was on stage performing orally. Driveshaft throbbed rhymically, almost musically, as he opened his mouth to spew forth the torrent of lyrics that had been hiding behind his teeth and just below his tongue.Just another day, flying highThrough the blue and vastful skyThe future living in my eyeHow was I to know I soon would die?MONSTER EATS THE PILOT!!!The audience cheered with a moderate to high level of enthusiasm as the lead guitar erupted in a major squinch of music-like notes. Charlie smiled as he banged his Rickenbacker. This was the life...“WAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!”Charlie opened his eyes to the smell of ocean waves and baby poo in his nose. “Dude, he needs changing. Again...” Hurley stood there with the squirming bundle of stink lines that was baby Aaron.“Where’s Claire?” Charlie asked with a question of inquisition. After all, this baby and, therefore, it’s stink lines did, after all, belong to her, after all.“She went to talk to Locke,” Hurley said. “I don’t think it’s supposed to be a secret. But sometimes it’s hard to tell. Maybe we should all start winking when we do something that someone else isn’t supposed to know. Like “I’m going to talk to Locke” (wink) would automatically mean it’s a secret. I think that would work out better than me just having to guess all the time what’s supposed to be a secret and what’s not supposed to be a secret. What do you think? Dude? Dude?”Charlie was already a quarter mile down the beach, headed for Locke’s Lodge...“So then I slit the boar’s throat. Blood must has spurted a good four feet!” Locke laughed. He never got tired of telling that story.Claire joined in his bemused amusement. There was something about this man. Creepy, yet enticing. Sort of like the smell of aged cheese...“So Claire,” Locke was saying. “You didn’t come all this way just to hear my boar story again. Why did you come?”“Yes, why?” Charlie jumped out from behind a shrub.Claire--startled at the jumping out of Charlie--gasped as with air. She felt guilty, yet she knew not why, what for or whatever. She felt she could not tell the truth of the situation. Not yet...“Um...I just needed to ask Locke’s advice. That dark-haired woman, the one who killed Shannon has been staring at me, and I wondered if I should say something to her.”Charlie heard Claire’s words and wanted to believe they were as true as non false ones could be. But he felt in his heart they were vastly unreal with a terrible fakeness. His anger burned inside him like a fiery fire of flame.Locke was answering Claire’s put forth query with a wisdom parable about a vole, a see-saw and can of green beans.But, perhaps, Charlie was wrong. Locke was a man. A man who knew stuff. People were always asking him (Locke, not Charlie) for saged advice. Was he (Charlie, not Locke) right to question Claire’s looking-up-to-ness of Locke?Charlie listened quietly, his anger squished down deep, deep inside so it could not squiggle out. At least, not yet. Not until he was ready to show what kind of person he was really made of. He was a man. A man who knew stuff.Just like John Locke...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 11 2005 @ 04:48 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=back_gammon"&gt;back_gammon&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...The legs of Hurley popped and cracked at the knuckles and gave a mighty push, like the coiled tension springs of ferocious pistons that drive big stuff in big engine shafts. But down in front he landed before Anna, soft as a feather pillow. The feelings of Hurley were furious! No way! Beyond furious!“Okay, Anna, you want to learn a Kung Fu stance, I’ll teach you a Kung Fu stance. The most powerful of all.” Hurley was seething. Raging like an 8-cylinder Taurus!Anna stopped sniveling. Taking a few steps back from her bloody palm, her eyeball dropped. The other eye stared, stunned into silence. Hurley had never been seen before this by her eyes like this. “Now pay attention!” Hurley roared. “This is the only Kung Fu you’ll ever need, cause if you master this, you won’t need any of the rest.” Hurley was off the chain! Rumble in the jungle! Both of the legs of Anna went all watery and wanted to run, but one after another they turned to face Hurley because of her making them. Quicker than a Cobra strike, Hurley stuck out his right hand and held it there in that position. He smiled in shy triumph.Anna stood stuck in her own stupid for a moment. Then she began to get it. She finally began to get it. And thus did one-eyed Anna leave behind on the jungle floor the eye with the moon in it. She smiled sort of shy-like and extended her own right hand.And thus did the mighty warrior, Hurley, begin to teach one-eyed Anna to shake hands in friendship, the most powerful Kung Fu stance of all, and the one that makes all the others unnecessary.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The End&lt;br /&gt;(Sorry Anna haters. Even Evil Anna cannot withstand the powerful Kung Fu of the mighty warrior, Hurley.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 11 2005 @ 04:54 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=back_gammon"&gt;back_gammon&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Locke was answering Claire’s put forth query with a wisdom parable about a vole, a see-saw and can of green beans.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LMAO! Please continue!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 11 2005 @ 04:55 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=back_gammon"&gt;back_gammon&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;oopsie daisy! Double post.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 11 2005 @ 04:57 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=captainaeon"&gt;captainaeon&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And thus did the mighty warrior, Hurley, begin to teach one-eyed Anna to shake hands in friendship, the most powerful Kung Fu stance of all, and the one that makes all the others unnecessary.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;BRAVO!!! WONDERFUL ENDING!!!I thought for a second there that Hurley was going to teach Ana 'Run Fu'...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 11 2005 @ 05:14 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=back_gammon"&gt;back_gammon&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;'Run Fu'&lt;/em&gt;... LOL I wish I'd thought of that!&lt;br /&gt;Thanks for saying nice stuff about the ending. I was worried because I know so many folks dislike Anna and probably want to see her get a smack down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 11 2005 @ 05:17 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=captainaeon"&gt;captainaeon&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Thanks for saying nice stuff about the ending. I was worried because I know so many folks dislike Anna and probably want to see her get a smack down.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The woman ripped out her own eye!!! That was a pretty big smack, IMO!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 11 2005 @ 05:26 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=captainsandwich"&gt;captainsandwich&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;good stuff. you keep outdoing eachother.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name="8412501"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Posted: Dec 11 2005 @ 05:36 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=captainaeon"&gt;captainaeon&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;good stuff. you keep outdoing eachother.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;OUR BAD KNOWS NO LIMITS!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 11 2005 @ 06:44 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=MeSlapMeThrowRock"&gt;MeSlapMeThrowRock&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;OUR BAD KNOWS NO LIMITS!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;I never realized how hard it was to write so badly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 11 2005 @ 07:35 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=LIONARTist"&gt;LIONARTist&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I&lt;em&gt; never realized how hard it was to write so badly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;It has always come easy for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name="8414757"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 11 2005 @ 07:36 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=MeSlapMeThrowRock"&gt;MeSlapMeThrowRock&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It has always come easy for me.&lt;br /&gt;No need to brag.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 11 2005 @ 07:44 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=captainsandwich"&gt;captainsandwich&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;can someone write a story titled Sun Burn, about Sun. not enough Sun stories.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 12 2005 @ 05:51 AM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=LIONARTist"&gt;LIONARTist&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SUN BURN by LIONARTist&lt;br /&gt;Chapter 1&lt;br /&gt;Sun sat on the sandy gritty beach, washing her clothes on a very sandy gritty rock that was half submerged in the sandy gritty salty ocean by the beach, which was littered with literally billions and billions of grains of sand. She dipped each article of clothing, one by one in the surf and thought to herself, "I wonder why I always smell like salty ocean perch?".Then she broke wind. "Phew! I'm glad no one's around to smell that one", she thought out loud to a seagull flying by.Just then, she passed gas again. It was a robust blast which burned a little. The seagull fell from the sky."Must be those mangos", she thought.She put away her wash and turned to walk jovially back to camp, when she heard a roaring sound from the jungle to her right. It started off low and slowly built to a thunderous chorus of gurgles and blasts.Hurley walked out of the trees from the direction that the noise came from in that vicinity of which it eminated."Sorry", he said. "It must be those dang mangos".Many plants and shrubs were turning greyish brown behind him and insects scurried in all directions.Meanwhile, at the same time, on another part of the sandy gritty beach, Charlie was helping Claire feed Aaron. "You'd better take him now" Charlie exclaimed with great reservations, "My nibbles are getting sore"."Okay", the young mother said. There was a subtle hint of bedraggled inconsequence in her voice. Then suddenly, she floated an air biscuit."Whoa!" Charlie shouted. "I'm blind! I'm blind!""Must be the mangos", thought Claire.Chapter 2 will be coming as soon as I can get it out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 12 2005 @ 06:59 AM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=libbyrocks05"&gt;libbyrocks05&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Found this on a fan site....not my writing.....yikes...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bama opened her eyes. Her breathing was rapid but she seemed to be ok. The last thing she remembers was being in a cage and eyeing the yellow lab across the cargo hold. She was sure he was looking at her too. She sniffed the air. She could smell him. Not to bad she thought. If only I was closer....Her thoughts were rattled by the turbulence of the plane. She was up on all fours now whimpering softly. She looked at the yellow lab. His beautiful brown eyes were full of fear and he too was on all fours. He kind of looked like he'd just spotted a duck or something and she cocked her head in wonder. Suddenly, it was chaos. The cages were sliding back and forth, suitcases flying, the plane jumping wildly. The tail section fell off...she cried out...she was falling. She could no longer see the yellow lab. Splash. Darkness.Bama lifted her head and looked around. She was lying on the beach. She wasn’t sure how she got out of her cage but why question fate. She slowly tried to stand but was weak and wobbly. She took a step and whimpered loudly. Her right paw was hurt. It must have gotten cut as she was escaping her cage. She licked it gently. With her 3 good legs she hopped over to the tree line and laid down in the shade as she was hot from the sun and come to think of it she was a bit hungry too. Her thoughts went back to the yellow lab. Her eyes scanned what she could see of the beach. Nothing. She was alone and that thought did not bode well. She woke hours later to a stick snapping. Her ears perked up and the hair on her hackles stood on end. Something was out there. Bama let out a small growl to warn any oncoming danger that she was not about to go down without a fight. Her eyes looked deep into the jungle and she caught sight of a yellow blob bouncing toward her. She blinked to focus and growled again. The blob stopped. It was very cautious. Its tongue was hanging out and it was panting. A dopey look of "ruh?" was on its face and she relaxed as the yellow lab slowly approached her. She sniffed the air and found familiarity in the wind. It was the other dog from the plane. He nuzzled her head and she was glad to have company. She licked his face and he lay down beside her. Bama saw his collar. His tag said his name was Vincent. "Some ride, huh?" She said shyly.Vincent looked at her. "Yes. Were you scared?"She wanted to say 'What do you think?' but thought better of it and just said "Very. What happened?"Vincent cocked his head again. He didn’t know either and if he could have shrugged his shoulders he would have. He could only say, "I don’t know, but it wasn’t good."Bama licked her paw again. It was really hurting now. "Nasty gash you got there. Does it hurt?"Bama cocked her head as if to say "DUH?" then went back to licking her wound. "My names Bama." She offered. "Vincent." "I know I saw your tag. Why were you on the plane?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok more later.And remember folks.. I'm not an English major.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 12 2005 @ 07:05 AM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=captainsandwich"&gt;captainsandwich&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Chapter 2 will be coming as soon as I can get it out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;ah the fart story. is there anything better?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 12 2005 @ 07:11 AM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=LIONARTist"&gt;LIONARTist&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SUN BURN&lt;br /&gt;Chapter 2&lt;br /&gt;Sun heard Charlie screaming through his throat area as if he were a fire engine going to a four-alarm fire with hoses blasting and the siren going woo-wooo.She dropped her smelly fish laundry and paused. She strained a little and out came a butt-burp. "Mangos", she thought.Then she ran towards the wailing Charlie, letting out tiny short poots as she ran. "Poot-poot-poot-poot-poot-poot-poot-poot-poot-poot"It was about 40 yards."Poot-poot-poot-poot-poot-poot-poot-poot-poot-poot-poot-poot""Only about 35 yards left", Sun mused."Poot-poot-poot-poot-poot........"Finally she reached the gritty sandy spot where Claire stood and Charlie laid, flailing about like a tuna on one of those big commercial tuna boats after it had been caught and thrown onto the deck and was dying."What happened here, you two nice but stupid people?" asked Sun."It was the mangos" stated Claire. "Charlie's being such a big baby"."Look" Claire continued, "It doesn't bother Aaron. He hasn't uttered two peeps of a lambs tail. Aaron? Aaron? Damn those mangos".She quickly gave her unconcious baby mouth-to-mouth recessa... ressess....recassita.......CPR."Mommy's sorry" she told her recovering birth child of love.Sun shouted for her to run get Jack. Charlie was bleeding from the eyeball sockets. As Claire ran away, short little rump trumpets began to sound."Toot-toot-toot-toot-toot......"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 12 2005 @ 07:14 AM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=libbyrocks05"&gt;libbyrocks05&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SUN BURN 2 is just GENIUS!!!! Do you have your PhD in English? You are amazing!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 12 2005 @ 07:22 AM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=back_gammon"&gt;back_gammon&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Congratulations to LIONARTist for reaching deep intoot his gut, pulling out all the stops, and finding the literary intestinal fortitude toot take the thread toot new depths of badness! The limbo bar has gone so low it is now buried in the ground!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 12 2005 @ 07:25 AM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=captainsandwich"&gt;captainsandwich&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;SUN BURNChapter 2."Toot-toot-toot-toot-toot......"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;excellent, might I add:Clare, "I gave birth, that is pain. You have indigestion. Quit your complaining." Charlie replies, "I am giving birth to a baby myself here Clare, take a look at that thing that I just dropped on the beach. I am going to name the bloody thing Brutus."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 12 2005 @ 08:11 AM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=back_gammon"&gt;back_gammon&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;My apologies for this being written rather straightforward. No time to run it through the modifier mangler this morning.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sun Burns Out&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sun stood in the shower washing off Fifi Velour’s heavy stage makeup. Fifi Velour was the stage name Sun used to disguise her identity when she danced lunch hour gigs at the topless joint. She needed a disguise because it would be a toss up as to who would kill her first if they ever found out, Jin or her father. But Jin was gone most of the time working for her father, and her father almost never ventured out of the private world of luxury, privilege, murder, and mayhem he had built up around himself, and Sun needed something to keep herself busy. She could only study English, shop at fine stores everywhere, and putter about doing indoor herb gardening for so many hours a day. No. That’s a lie. She did it because she liked it. But which part? The pole dancing itself, or having a secret life that her husband and father didn’t know about? Out in the living room, Bo-po was barking his little wrinkled head off. That must be Jin, home early from his latest strong arming assignment. Yes, she knew all about it. She wasn’t stoopid, you know. Sun turned off the water in the shower. Oh no! Sun realized she had left Fifi Velour’s pink suede gee-string and break-away black leather bustier lying on the floor of the bedroom…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 12 2005 @ 08:15 AM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=LostMyMindAgain"&gt;LostMyMindAgain&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See Jack HealHeal, Jack. Heal!See Kate Run.Run, Kate. Run!See Hurley Eat.Eat, Hurley. Eat!See Sun Sow.Sow, Sun. Sow!See Sawyer Sweat.Sweat, Sawyer. Sweat!See Jin Grin.Grin, Jin. Grin!See Claire change a diaper.Change, Claire. Change!See Charlie sing.Sing, Charlie. Sing!See Boone Decompose.Rot, Boone. Rot!See Shannon sleep.Sleep, Shannon. Sleep!See Sayid torture Ana-Lucia!Torture, Sayid. Torture!See Micheal lose control of his bowels over seeing someone type on the computer in the hatch.Sh*t, Micheal. Sh*t!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 12 2005 @ 08:18 AM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=back_gammon"&gt;back_gammon&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;…Sun jumped out of the shower, grabbing a towel, and slipped and skidded across the bathroom floor and out into the bedroom where the thick carpet caught her toe and she began to fall. Jin caught her in his arms, smiling that rakish smile of his. “You’re so happy to see me you almost break your neck rushing to greet me?” His eyes twinkled while he tenderly stroked her soft damp neck, but there was something else there, too. Something dangerous that sent a shiver through her.Sun smiled her warmest and gave Jin a big hug. Around his shoulder her eyes quickly scanned the floor. Fifi Velour’s work outfit was nowhere to be seen…Sun could feel her heart pounding. Had Jin found the trashy strip apparel? Where was it? Jin leaned down to catch Sun’s mouth in a kiss. From the living room, Bo-po started to bark again. Then came the sound of the doorbell. Jin shrugged, gave Sun’s bare shoulder a playful nip, and walked out of the bedroom and toward the front door.Sun tightened the towel about her and quickly searched the bedroom and bathroom. Where was it? How could a pink suede g-string and black leather bustier just vanish into thin air? A frisson of panic shot through her. From the living room came the sound of her father’s voice. He and Jin were talking in low tones, too low for her to understand what they were saying. Suddenly she heard her husband’s voice, raised to a shout...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2712872556419020419-4032729569320766143?l=thelosthomeforbadfiction.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thelosthomeforbadfiction.blogspot.com/feeds/4032729569320766143/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2712872556419020419&amp;postID=4032729569320766143' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2712872556419020419/posts/default/4032729569320766143'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2712872556419020419/posts/default/4032729569320766143'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thelosthomeforbadfiction.blogspot.com/2007/01/lionartist-big-idea-page-8.html' title='LIONARTist Big Idea  Page 8'/><author><name>back_gammon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14451548657665179875</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://i18.tinypic.com/2preg6f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2712872556419020419.post-8665381579678749161</id><published>2007-01-01T11:46:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-01-01T11:50:58.649-05:00</updated><title type='text'>LIONARTist Big Idea  Page 7</title><content type='html'>Posted: Dec 10 2005  @ 05:47 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=back_gammon"&gt;back_gammon&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;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.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 10 2005  @ 07:07 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=back_gammon"&gt;back_gammon&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...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...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 10 2005  @ 07:08 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=Jh_film"&gt;Jh_film&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;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&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 10 2005  @ 08:00 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=lucky4me8"&gt;lucky4me8&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;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.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 10 2005  @ 08:29 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=MeSlapMeThrowRock"&gt;MeSlapMeThrowRock&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BG, Slappy better start being happy again or BG will be very sad indeed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 10 2005  @ 08:32 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=MeSlapMeThrowRock"&gt;MeSlapMeThrowRock&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Lucky, you are bad, real bad, like a bad hairdo designed by a drunk on a shoestring bad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 10 2005  @ 08:39 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=back_gammon"&gt;back_gammon&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;BG, Slappy better start being happy again or BG will be very sad indeed.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not to worry. It's just a little cliff.........hanger&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 10 2005  @ 08:40 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=lucky4me8"&gt;lucky4me8&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lucky, you are bad, real bad, like a bad hairdo designed by a drunk on a shoestring bad.&lt;br /&gt;Why thank you, Slap. Don't worry, I know I can be worse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 10 2005  @ 09:23 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=Arthas57"&gt;Arthas57&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;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.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 10 2005  @ 09:25 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=MeSlapMeThrowRock"&gt;MeSlapMeThrowRock&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The Ponce, the Baldy, and the Wardrobe&lt;br /&gt;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…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 10 2005  @ 09:28 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=Arthas57"&gt;Arthas57&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What's with all the weird...words?Poncing? Galumphed? Bollocks? Arsing?Probably English (like...England) Words?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 10 2005  @ 09:58 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=MeSlapMeThrowRock"&gt;MeSlapMeThrowRock&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Look at the subject title.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 10 2005  @ 09:58 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=back_gammon"&gt;back_gammon&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;…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…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 11 2005   @ 07:30 AM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=back_gammon"&gt;back_gammon&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt;…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!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 11 2005   @ 08:26 AM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=LIONARTist"&gt;LIONARTist&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That was Poncing Slaptastic, Queen of the Hats. I laughed long and hard and the blood flowed freely from my cranial lobes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 11 2005   @ 09:06 AM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=back_gammon"&gt;back_gammon&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;…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:&lt;a href="http://www.sea.fi/foto/new%20one-armed%20swordsman.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;http://www.sea.fi/foto/new%20one-armed%20swordsman.jpg&lt;/a&gt;“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….”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 11 2005   @ 10:16 AM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=back_gammon"&gt;back_gammon&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;george got stuck on the rinse cycle again&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 11 2005   @ 11:28 AM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=captainaeon"&gt;captainaeon&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;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...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 11 2005   @ 11:32 AM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=MeSlapMeThrowRock"&gt;MeSlapMeThrowRock&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I fear for the safety of Claire.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 11 2005   @ 11:34 AM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=captainaeon"&gt;captainaeon&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I fear for the safety of Claire.&lt;br /&gt;Be afeared. Be very afeared...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 11 2005   @ 11:34 AM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=JacknSawyermmm"&gt;JacknSawyermmm&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;oooooo - I can't wait to hear more.&lt;em&gt;She sat at the table and began to eat her swinging legs under the table&lt;/em&gt;.So they fought back, eh? Keep up the good work&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 11 2005   @ 11:59 AM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=back_gammon"&gt;back_gammon&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;She sat at the table and began to eat her swinging legs under the table.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love it! blonde shiny hair....oooooohhh....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 11 2005   @ 12:13 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=anna_marie_89"&gt;anna_marie_89&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;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............?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SOMEONE FINISH OFF THE EPISODE PLEASE !&lt;br /&gt;LOVE ANNA xXxX&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 11 2005   @ 12:59 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=not_onboard"&gt;not_onboard&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hey can I post the link here to my crappy fanfic?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 11 2005   @ 01:03 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=MeSlapMeThrowRock"&gt;MeSlapMeThrowRock&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Hey can I post the link here to my crappy fanfic?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;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.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 11 2005   @ 01:28 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=back_gammon"&gt;back_gammon&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt;jack be nimble jack be quickjack go under limbo stick...how low can you go....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 11 2005   @ 01:34 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=back_gammon"&gt;back_gammon&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt;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.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 11 2005   @ 01:40 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=LIONARTist"&gt;LIONARTist&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Since Lion is my Mane Man, I don't think he would mind me responding to your question.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;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.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 11 2005   @ 01:41 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=MeSlapMeThrowRock"&gt;MeSlapMeThrowRock&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*stomping feet of the Nothers are heard island-wide rushing to the nursery*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 11 2005   @ 01:42 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=MeSlapMeThrowRock"&gt;MeSlapMeThrowRock&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;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.&lt;br /&gt;You big galumph, you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2712872556419020419-8665381579678749161?l=thelosthomeforbadfiction.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thelosthomeforbadfiction.blogspot.com/feeds/8665381579678749161/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2712872556419020419&amp;postID=8665381579678749161' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2712872556419020419/posts/default/8665381579678749161'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2712872556419020419/posts/default/8665381579678749161'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thelosthomeforbadfiction.blogspot.com/2007/01/lionartist-big-idea-page-7.html' title='LIONARTist Big Idea  Page 7'/><author><name>back_gammon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14451548657665179875</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://i18.tinypic.com/2preg6f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2712872556419020419.post-1657894841834166801</id><published>2006-12-30T09:35:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-30T09:43:23.676-05:00</updated><title type='text'>LIONARTist Big Idea  Page 6</title><content type='html'>Posted: Dec 09 2005 @ 03:45 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=Hatchcrazy"&gt;Hatchcrazy&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"He masticated again and again."--&lt;/em&gt;that is great. I forgot about that word.&lt;br /&gt;MeSlap- thanks, I know it's pretty disjointed but it was fun to write!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 09 2005 @ 03:57 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=042078"&gt;042078&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;He masticated again and again&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Read Everything Is Illuminated recently?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name="8378156"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Posted: Dec 09 2005 @ 04:02 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=back_gammon"&gt;back_gammon&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hatch, (and everybody) I've been so busy writing I haven't stopped to compliment your work, even though I've been reading it and laughing out loud all the way. Great stuff. The more disjointed the better!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name="8378426"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 09 2005 @ 04:13 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=back_gammon"&gt;back_gammon&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...“Yes, that’s right. You have eaten dozens of these special Himalayan poison worms. The only way to avoid dying is to submit to our training and become the secret Kung Fu Master, Shaolin Sawyer, you were meant to be by destiny.” Both voices of Marshall Artz and Darlin’ Beautiful’ came from behind. The eyes of Sawyer watched the cave whirl and go dim. “Why? What….destiny…what.....” “Because the book you have seen, your destiny brings.” Coming around, Sawyer was seated on a large-bottomed patient commode like in nursing homes. Relieving to find, his eyes saw there was a seat belt contraption and some straps to hold. Wondering how long had he been there, he couldn’t decide for his legs were numb..“Sawyer! Come have your nutrition!” That was Marshall Artz, barking at him from another room. “Come. Hurry. Today we have our special one half-Southern pan fried chicken.”Thus did Sawyer’s training begin. He carried buckets of water up thousands of steps. He stood on one leg on upended logs for hours at a time. He jumped, leaped, rolled, punched, kicked, and spun, as days, weeks, and months passed. Days. Weeks. Months. Ha! His training was just beginning.But all the while, Sawyer was planning his escape. For he did not believe in destiny…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 09 2005 @ 04:33 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=LIONARTist"&gt;LIONARTist&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kenny pulled back the blood-soaked linens of his hospital bed to reveal that his legs had been surgically replaced with Tickle Me Elmo dolls. "Gasp!" He gasped. His mind became a whirlwind of screaming phantasms and Insane gurgling noises emenated from the esophagus of him. "What hath thou done to me, oh evil scientist?!!!!"Kenny had it in his mind that he was The Mighty Thor, ever since the third grade, when he was hit on the head by his friend Hootie's Nerf armoire.He had seen floaters and was sure that they were the Asgardian pixies, coming to transform his DNA into that of the Norse god.Now Kenny's mind reeled from the sheer unbelievability of the events that had transpired since he boarded flight 815 from Sydney to Los Angeles.When he first woke up on the beach, he felt a pain in his colon. "Too much cheese on that in flight meal", he thought to himself as he mouthed the words. "If only there were some roughage or wild prunes to consume. If only I could find some Muselex amongst the luggage. If only Dawn had not abandoned Tony Orlando." His mind was racing.Kenny leapt to his knees and then leapt again to his ankles, and finally, leapt a third time to his feet. Even though many of his fellow survivors were hurt and begging for help, Kenny could only think of one thing, and one thing only, which was the only one thing that was on his mind at the moment...and that was purging his intestinal tract and letting loose the fowl nemesis that was attacking his lower digestive system.Hurriedly, he scurried past the murky churning purple ferns. He stumbled and bumbled into the jumbled jungle, until at last he was past the vast chasm of gas.Kenny looked around and as he did so, he felt another twinge of the unwieldy pressure."CURSE THEE, OH EXCREMENTAL WASTE AND YOUR PRAERIE DOGGING FURY!" Kenny cried.He reached for his trouser button to unhinge his pants, and as he did so, he suddenly felt the same stinging sensation that he felt in 3rd grade. Kenny managed to get one word out before blacking out. "Hootie?" And now he was sitting in a bed, in what seemed to be an underground laboratory. His lower limbs vibrating and laughing, as if they were mocking him in his pitiful state. "What cruel fate? What ghastly circumstance? What hath the Gods wrought?" questioned Kenny."What morbid doom. What despicable transpirations. What a waste of two perfectly good Tickle me Elmos."Kenny try to leap to his knees. But the vibrating of the Elmos was driving him insane. Slowly he slid off the side of the bed. The darkness was impenetrable. He gazed around and looked at all the stuff. There was alot of stuff. Medical looking stuff, scientific-looking stuff, and alot of mad-scientific-looking stuff too. There was reeeeeallly a helluva lotta stuff."Gee whizeth!" Kenny exclaimed. Then he died.A strange figure stepped out of the shadows.He called out to his huge and gigantic henchman. "Fernando! Get me another subject!" he said with a wry smile and a pumpernickle twinkle in his eyes."This time we'll try Cookie Monsters".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name="8379941"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 09 2005 @ 05:16 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=Lost_SoccerGirl23a"&gt;Lost_SoccerGirl23a&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Charlie was a git and he knew it. Knew it deep down in the recesses of his mangy mind. Bloody rock-god had fallen and fallen hard. Fallen, like his arches. Now he had to wear Scholls’ arch supports in his poncy shoes. He shook himself from his reverie and looked askance at Claire.Claire walked away, quickly. Quickly, like her boyfriend left her pregnant and alone. The little runt wouldn’t leave her alone. He kept taking off with her baby. One day he took Turniphead without telling her and she was forced to run around screaming, “A wacko took my baaabyyy!”&lt;br /&gt;now that, that is way bad, and apparentrly you must hate charlie, i like charlie, he's nice, you, youy are not nice j/k but i think you are prejudice against charlie! noooooooooooooooooooooooooooo that is not good that is baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaad&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name="8383113"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 09 2005 @ 08:09 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=back_gammon"&gt;back_gammon&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;He masticated again and again Read Everything Is Illuminated recently?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know it. Is it a book or a thread title?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 09 2005 @ 08:19 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=MeSlapMeThrowRock"&gt;MeSlapMeThrowRock&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Holy crap, Ricky!! ROTFLMAO!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 09 2005 @ 08:27 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=hurleys_girl"&gt;hurleys_girl&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and now a werd from our spawnser:huked on fonix&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 09 2005 @ 08:33 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=mistressshake"&gt;mistressshake&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*goes to look up masticated*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name="8384018"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 09 2005 @ 09:12 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=back_gammon"&gt;back_gammon&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...Today was a little ceremony in the secret cave of the graduation of him and his training. After passing all of the progressively brutal physical and mental tests, the teachers congratulated the pupil. In honor of graduating, Sawyer was receiving a gift. Manufactured in Japan, Sawyer was thrilled with the fine quality of his new steel sword. &lt;em&gt;Know your destiny. Guard it for life&lt;/em&gt;.These words were inscribed on the hilt. The two teachers smiled. It was the first time Sawyer’s eyes saw Darlin’ Beautiful smile. In a yellow silk flowing robe, Sawyer was camptivated by the beauty of her. He offered a ripe mango to the woman that he had been carrying around in his pocket for the last week. And for Marshall Artz, another mango. There was some more masticating, but mostly just swallowing, because the mangoes were soft soft soft and ripe ripe ripe.“Another day, another man-go.” Smirked Sawyer’s thoughts. But I’m the man whose going to go. With each mouthful of the poisoned mangoes, Sawyer’s escape plan got closer and more real. One more bite for each one and he---&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 09 2005 @ 09:51 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=back_gammon"&gt;back_gammon&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...He spun and leaped through the air and out of the cave. The long yellow flowing robe of Sawyer that he wore rustled and made that sound like the wings of birds. The graduation sword of finest steel felt good strapped as it was to his lower waistline and hip and pelvis area.by a red sashing and did not impede his abilities to spinning and leaping as if unfettered by the rules of normal physics and gravitational.He was free! He wanted to try tip-toeing across the tree tops like Chow Yun-Fat, but decided to save it for later. OH NO! His ears heard Marshall Artz and Darlin’Beautiful close behind him as their silk flapped and rustled too. The mangoes didn’t do the trick. The powers of their Kung Fu was being stronger than the imagination of Sawyer could imagine. OH! The mighty thighs of Sawyer bunched and leaped, higher than he’d ever bunched before. The toes of Sawyer felt for a palm frond. Chow Yun-Fat time, ready or not. He missed! Falling! Falling! Falling! A wildly colored parrot in the tree squawked, and after squawking and screaming fiercely, Sawyer raced off in terror on the ground grabbing the hilt of the sword.Know your destiny. Guard it for life.Grabbing the sword, the words on the hilt was burning his palm. He screamed and let it go and his neck turned down to watch it slide back into the scabbard. Marshall Artz and Darlin’ Beautiful were so close now he could feel their breath on his neck. Hot breath. Hot. Like it or not...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 09 2005 @ 09:53 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=MeSlapMeThrowRock"&gt;MeSlapMeThrowRock&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BG, can you work me into the story as Sawyer's love interest?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 09 2005 @ 11:15 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=back_gammon"&gt;back_gammon&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;BG, can you work me into the story as Sawyer's love interest?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;Oh, sorry, not this time. I just finished the last little chapter. If I'd known sooner, I could have done so. Sorry. Maybe for another story, perhaps.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 09 2005 @ 11:35 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=back_gammon"&gt;back_gammon&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...Sawyer’s back was cornered, no way around it. His hand hurt from grabbing the hilton the sword. It burned like fire. His thighs hurt from all that bunching and leaping. And his heart hurt, to tell the truth. Know your destiny. Guard it for life.He shook his burning hand and looked at. In his palm, now, the words inscribed on the sword hilt were burned in for life. Sawyer slumped down. Defeated at last. Scarred by destiny, he had no choice but to accept it. And once he accepted it, he had no choice but to guard it. It was what it was. And he was what he was, only different now. His heart didn’t hurt anymore.With ginger, he pulled the sword from the scabbard with his other hand. He looked at the steel blade. The long fine steel and noticed something he hadn’t seen before. Another inscription.&lt;em&gt;Destiny will find you on the road you take to avoid it.&lt;/em&gt; Moving away and growing ever fainter, the ears of Sawyer heard the sound of rustling silk, until the sound grew so faint it was gone. Inscribed by the finest steel, Sawyer began to make his way back to the beach. Arriving back at his love shack, nothing had changed much, just a layer of dust. The book was still on the bed he was reading before he left. The Lost Kung Fu“Hi Sawyer, glad to see you!” It was Slappy, beating out Kate to be the first to greet Sawyer and welcome him back, popping her head by. “What’s that?” Sawyer handed the book to the woman that he found lying on the bed covered with dust. When opened, a snapshot fell out. Sawyer, Marshall Artz, and Darlin’ Beautiful.Slap's hands bent at the waist and picked up the picture. Her eyes zoomed to the writing on the back: “With love to Shaolin Sawyer, forged in steel, enscribed by destiny.”&lt;br /&gt;The End&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LOL, Slap, I worked you in at the last minute doing the part that was written for kate. If you don't like it I'll change it back to kate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 09 2005 @ 11:38 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=MeSlapMeThrowRock"&gt;MeSlapMeThrowRock&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BG! Love it. Just remember, Sawyer loves me not Kate. That bending my hands at my waist is so me...how'd you know?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 10 2005 @ 12:08 AM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=back_gammon"&gt;back_gammon&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I figured since Sawyer can squint at the waist, like he did earlier in the story... LOLGlad you enjoyed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 10 2005 @ 08:06 AM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=LIONARTist"&gt;LIONARTist&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The reviews for Backgammon's SHAOLIN SAWYER are out and THE CRITICS ALL AGREE!"A literary triumph in destiny's children." - LIONARTist of the ABC LOST Boards"An excercise in Bunching and Masticating. A totally Heebie-Jeebie ride." - Doogie Howser, of the late TV show by the same name."I read it once and once was just too many times." - SpongeBob Squarepants, of The Bikini Bottom Sentinel"Bad writing has never been brought to the forefront of cleverity such as Backgammon has been able to bend at the neck and say stuff" - GW Bush, of the Daily Warmonger"I couldn't put it down. Some imbecile had put superglue on the book jacket" - Some guy in the B. Dalton bookstore in Halifax&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 10 2005 @ 08:07 AM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=LIONARTist"&gt;LIONARTist&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Holy crap, Ricky!! ROTFLMAO!!!&lt;br /&gt;Yeeees. Crap indeed. The poopy joke is always an easy laugh. But that's me - easy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 10 2005 @ 09:17 AM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=MeSlapMeThrowRock"&gt;MeSlapMeThrowRock&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Greg let go of Marsha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 10 2005 @ 09:27 AM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=back_gammon"&gt;back_gammon&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What lovely reviews! And a shout out to Doogie Howser - are you still tripping with Harold and Kumar at the White Castle? YO!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 10 2005 @ 11:03 AM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=lucky4me8"&gt;lucky4me8&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sayid applied pressure on the makeshift tweezers he’d fashioned from a hairpin filched from Shannon’s corpse. Gently he manipulated the tiny finial onto the edge of the 3-inch urchin-quill curtain rod that would frame the sumptuous bay window of the ½ inch scale miniature Edwardian hat shop he’d been crafting fastidiously in the seclusion of the tangled mandrake roots. Each tiny hat was a masterpiece, no bigger than the diameter of its circumference. He meticulously wedged a sparse plume into a scarlet fedora the size of a bottlecap when he felt it – the venomous, vascular sting of the injection. “What were you thinking?” Sayid heard as his mind struggled from the grotto of semi-consciousness. “That feather was from one of the carriers!” The French woman raised the voltage on the carburator thingy and zapped him again. “Idiot!”Sayid convulsed, straining in his shackles. “I had to forego period accuracy,” he yelped. “There’s not exactly an ostrich population on the island.” He looked around as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, taking in the enormous stalactites dripping from above. “Where am I?”“My temporary digs,” sighed Danielle, ducking to avoid a swooping marsupial. “I really miss the pit.”“We had some good times there, didn’t we?” Sayid smiled in spite of himself. He glanced at Danielle’s wistful expression. “I could build you a miniature replica.”“Would you, could you? It would mean so much,” Danielle came closer, stepping over wires criss-crossing across the cave.“I built an accurate model of Saddam’s bunker for the CIA,” said Sayid. “Quarter-inch scale, very precise.” Condescention dripped onto his sincere forehead. “Of course, I would need my hands.” “Could you have it ready in time for Christmas?” “It would be my pleasure,” said Sayid, furrowing his brow as he contemplated the minute Bouche de Noel he would leave on the tiny metal bed as a surprise. “But Danielle, I’ll need some supplies.”“Danielle?” the French woman started, jumping to her feet. “Ha! You might as well know, Danielle died in childbirth sixteen years ago. I buried her on the Cote Sauvage, in a shallow grave with Montaigne's arm. I’m her sister, Justine.” The strange, unkempt woman smiled shyly, then slyly removed her glass eye.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 10 2005 @ 01:13 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=back_gammon"&gt;back_gammon&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Each tiny hat was a masterpiece, no bigger than the diameter of its circumference.&lt;/em&gt; I love it! Ha! Very imaginative (and also quite believable) extension of my two favorite characters.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 10 2005 @ 01:35 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=lucky4me8"&gt;lucky4me8&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bg, you're the one who raised the bar and lowered the limbo stick...Ha!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 10 2005 @ 01:52 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=back_gammon"&gt;back_gammon&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;wheeeeeee! Where's my calypso hat? Ha!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 10 2005 @ 04:15 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=captainaeon"&gt;captainaeon&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;for bg--Ye angel descended fromst on high and fromst the heavens to tutal us in the ways of kung fu mastication! Nouns, verbalages and participular dangulationBe thy glorious instruments!Thwack mine head again!That I might beholdThy beautiousitudinous wordage!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 10 2005 @ 04:39 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=back_gammon"&gt;back_gammon&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Coming soon: Enter the Teeth of the DragonFrom the Teeth of Fury Ultimate Legends CollectionA Drunken Master Wu Tang Joint Production(Featuring a special guest appearance by Montaigne as the One Armed Swordsman.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 10 2005 @ 04:45 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=lucky4me8"&gt;lucky4me8&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;May I reserve an advance (autographed) copy?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 10 2005 @ 05:26 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=captainaeon"&gt;captainaeon&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;“Danielle?” the French woman started, jumping to her feet. “Ha! You might as well know, Danielle died in childbirth sixteen years ago. I buried her on the Cote Sauvage, in a shallow grave with Montaigne's arm. I’m her sister, Justine.” The strange, unkempt woman smiled shyly, then slyly removed her glass eye.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Great, lucky! But the question now becomes--is this thread big enough for 2 geniuseses of literal writing--you and bg???&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 10 2005 @ 05:31 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=back_gammon"&gt;back_gammon&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Enter the Teeth of the Dragon&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The teeth of Anna were becoming in handy as coconut openers at the little joint opened up by her for making a living purposes. Anna’s Alibi Inn. Still not accepted by the beach livers, the eyes of Anna was always crying on the side which no one could see.Down the beach, the smiling lips of Rose and Bernard were standing and watching hand in hand as Vincent and toddler Aaron played. Anna turned her eyes away not to be looking.Anna’s teeth earned a little on the side, too. Working for Dr. Jack, tonsillectomies were being done all the routine time without the benefit package of anesthesia. Just one kiss by Anna – no more tonsils.Shaolin Sawyer was strolling toward the joint holding hands with Slappy of which Anna was proprietress of. A crush was had on Shaolin Sawyer by Anna’s heart. But no matter how lonely, fearing disaster her crush never developed anywhere. Between her tonsillectomizing teeth, and his reputation of mastication, that was an accident to be avoided from all angles. But Anna wanted something else from the tall, lean, well-bunched man…&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2712872556419020419-1657894841834166801?l=thelosthomeforbadfiction.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thelosthomeforbadfiction.blogspot.com/feeds/1657894841834166801/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2712872556419020419&amp;postID=1657894841834166801' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2712872556419020419/posts/default/1657894841834166801'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2712872556419020419/posts/default/1657894841834166801'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thelosthomeforbadfiction.blogspot.com/2006/12/posted-dec-09-2005-0345-pm-by.html' title='LIONARTist Big Idea  Page 6'/><author><name>back_gammon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14451548657665179875</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://i18.tinypic.com/2preg6f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2712872556419020419.post-2791483148066720998</id><published>2006-12-29T10:32:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-29T10:52:49.772-05:00</updated><title type='text'>LIONARTist Big Idea  Page 5</title><content type='html'>Posted: Dec 08 @ 08:18 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=back_gammon"&gt;back_gammon&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;bg--you are truly amazing!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LOL Only if I can think of a way to finish this up. The story, even though it's horribly written, is resisting a closing chapter right now, so I may have to leave Charlie, Claire, and the riderless horse bolting through the jungle all night. Maybe by tomorrow they'll be so tired they won't struggle when I try to bring their little adventure to an end. PS I appreciate the compliment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 08 @ 09:47 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=dhinged"&gt;dhinged&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Monster and Mr. EkoMr. Eko pursued the monster to the farthest point in the jungle. It was without words or actions that he held the stick up sideways towards a sound that he heard by himself. The jungle made no sound, but something moved off in the foliage that made him wish he could wonder what it was. "Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death" he said out loud to nobody in the air, his eyes pointing interestedly into the jungle leafs, "I will fear no evil". He would have recited the rest of the psalm but there was a noise which was so over-exhuberant it would have thrown an old man into a wheelchair against his back.Bwoof! Rocks and dirt went flying like a German soldier throwing a hand-grenade. He gripped the stick tighter as is if it was a long lost girlfriend. The rocks and dirt kept flying through the air toward him, and he thought about the next part of the 23rd Psalm, but it didn't really fit right, so he thought he might use it later. The rocks and dirt weren't flying alone, as they were followed by a clanging sound that sounded like a construction whistle that was scraping together with various metal parts in a giant washing machine. A tree uprooted as if someone was pulling weeds in front of him as he cursed the weed-puller. Just as he was thinking of another Psalm to say, Michael jumped out with a gun from behind a bush that he was waving. "Hey! Watch out!" Michael said as the clanging noise came more towards Eko than it did Michael. They both watched something invisible walk towards Mr. Eko, and Mr. Eko raised his stick high and then didn't say anything. Michael raised up his gun and fired, the bullet piercing a metal sound without going through. Michael reloaded his weapon fastly, while Mr. Eko swiped multiple times at it with the stick. Suddenly he got knocked over brutishly by the thing he was swiping the stick at. The ground crunched heavily and his stick went like a propeller becoming disconnected from a helicopter in mid-flight spinning through the air. Another crunching sound, and Mr. Eko couldn't help but scream. Michael's eyes went wide while firing the weapon with hysterically again. "Clang!" went the object, but Eko was only picked up by the object and twirled into the air as if he was a total pinjata, now made long by his horizontal angle to the ground. Michael screamed "No! Stop!" and ran out from behind the bush leaping over a rock. The thing kept clanging Eko sideways, which it finally dropped him to the ground, and Michael ran over to the wound. The monster suddenly turned clankily sideways and whistling, stomped off into the underbrush. There was so much crushed foliage Michael could barely think how to fix it all. "Please! Do not fix my wounds! I suffer for all of mankind." then Eko suddenly fell asleep. Michael knew the wound would require a shirt to stop it, so he removed it. Once the shirt had finished tying off all of the wound, he bent to pick up Eko and found that he was as heavy if not heavier than he was as tall as he was. Michael knew that he would need help carrying Mr. Eko back to camp all by himself, so he ran off with his sweaty back to the wind cursing through his not-fast-enough-pumping legs. This was enough for one day, thought Michael as his brain barely comprehended the thought, and I need some water I can drink from.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name="8358117"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Posted: Dec 09 2005  @ 05:13 AM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=back_gammon"&gt;back_gammon&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...On did they run and run and run until Charlie felt his lungs would blow up, or he would throw up. One of the two. He didn’t care. He decided he’d rather be dead instead of running any more. He thought of Grandma, sweet, dead Grandma, living back in Bristol, and the surprise parties she loved in secret to plan his childhood. What a surprise she would get when she saw Charlie. Dead too! Running along his side, he looked at Claire’s poorly bedraggled face and hair. But a fierce determination to get away from the horse bolted behind her was still on her mind and the way she was slashing through the dark, wet, glisteny leaves of the jungle. Charlie ran faster, hoping from his bottommost heart to protect her from the fate he knew no man could want.The horse stopped. Charlie and Claire ran more, still panting hard, the wet leaves slapped them in the cheeks of each others faces. Charlie’s parched blistered lips tasted the rain of the leaves from the stinging slaps he felt.“Stop!” Turning to Charlie, Claire’s feet slowed with a questioning look.Charlie’s pace slowed too. His well muscled calves and strong thighs couldn’t go any more, even if he still was wanting. “That’s better. Now look to your left and pick it up.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 09 2005  @ 05:40 AM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=back_gammon"&gt;back_gammon&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...Heart pounding, Charlie’s eyes looked to the left and then down. With his rear he felt something around his waist, Claire’s fingers felt for his and gripped him hard. She was very scared, his mind knew this without thinking. Charlie’s eyes saw nothing of which he was meant to see. Darkness. Impenetrable darkness. He was blind. He was blind, now. Really.For a long, sickening moment blood thudded in his neck and chest and against his ear drums, blotting out with each beat of his heart the sound of rain dripping from the leaves, and he came to understand that he was blind, not with the panicked beating of his heart, but with the sound of rain dripping. As soft as that. And the softness of the sound filled him with terror. And he suddenly understood that he was blind in a jungle with glasses he would never need again. They would not help him see the beach, the beach with blinding white sand as soft and fine as sugar. Gone too, the blue of the sky and the water. Blue that went on forever. Blue without end. Blue that he couldn’t bear to end. But it did. It had. He would never see Claire, or her beautiful hair, for which he had tried to find a brush, in a rush, again.Only Claire’s hand and fingers gripping his made him know he could still see, that he had not been struck blind as he had feared. I guess, the grip hurt so hard he opened his eyes wider and broke the dried blood and goopy crusty stuff from when he fell on the rocks. Or something like that. And with strong grip of Claire and with only the faintest glistening of the leaves to let him know his eyes still worked at all, he saw it. The miracle of sight. There. On the floor of the jungle.&lt;br /&gt;The End&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 09 2005  @ 06:43 AM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=Hatchcrazy"&gt;Hatchcrazy&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;sooooo bad sooooooooooo very bad.........so bad it's genius.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AND NOW....................................................A TREATISE ON BIO-ELECTROMAGNETIC WAVELENGTHS---------------------or-----------------------------------------Charlie's Excellent adventure----------------'''''''''''''''''''Charlie started awake. He started to get up but didn't. He thought he heard a breathing sound he thought was coming from nearby. His alarm clock ring and he touched it to make it quiet. It was quiet. Too quite. He knew he had to get to band practice. There would be answers there. Answers to questions. '''''''''''''''''''Liam banged the guitar a few times. It seemed to be working all right. Then sparks flew into the room out of the amplifyer. "Dharm-it" Liam thought about the amplifier which had cost him more than the cost of doing business in the music business. "Where the bloody half back is Charlie?" Charlie would know what to do. Charlie always had answers. Answers to questions.Next installment (as if you cared) will be:FRUITION THEORY: FRUTOPIA LOST?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 09 2005  @ 07:09 AM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=layla7072"&gt;layla7072&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* skims thread's posts and groans*There is some really bad writing here...Congrats! (?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 09 2005  @ 07:34 AM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=thinking_thing"&gt;thinking_thing&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Can I play too?Okay, here goes...Jack was so relieved to see the sun come up because that meant it was morning, and the longest darkest night ever was over that he almost cried, he was that happy. Jack sat up slowly while looking around trying to figure out where he was. He realize he was still on the beach,which made sense because that was where he had fallen asleep the night before. Kate was sleeping beside him. Not because anything had happened, but because everyone had just fallen asleep where they were lying down last night, it was that crazy. Closing his eyes, he studied Kate. She was pretty and crazy and made him so confused he didn't know what to think. Instead he turned to look at Hurley who was sleeping on Jack's other side. Jack was less confused about Hurley, because Hurley was funny and when Jack yelled at him, Hurley would do what he said. "Hurley" he yelled, "Wake up". And Hurley woke up.Hurley didn't like being woken up like tha because he had only fallen asleep a couple of hours ago, when it was still dark. Now it was morning and so it was too bright for his eyes. Hurley tried to roll over, but Jack yelled, "Hurley," again. Hurley thought for a minute about sitting up and punching Jack, then realized his punching arm was asleep so he couldn't. Instead he sat up. Ironically at the same moment Kate sat up, but because Jack wasn't looking at her he didn't see. Jack asked Hurely, "Do you think everyone made it through last night?"Hurley closed his eyes against the glare of the sun and tried to count people sleeping on the beach. He lost count 4 times. On Jack's other side, Kate laughed, which made Jack happy, because Kate had a nice laugh, then worried, in case she was laughing at him, then angry because she was probably laughing at something Sawyer had told her anyway. "hurley!" he said again, trying to keep his mind off of all his confusing thoughts. Hurley finished his fifth count and smiled. "Everyone's alive." Kate laughed again, and this time Jack went right past happy and worried and straight to angry because he was sure she was laughing at him. "Of course everyone's alright, Jack!" Kate laughed at him. "It was only food poisoning!"Jack turned to her seriously, thinking dark thoughts about the dark night. "That's what I'm afraid of, Kate. How did the others know we would be eating all the food in the Hatch? How did they know to spoil it?"Kate stared back at him, shocked by the dark look in his dark eyes. "...They did this on purpose?"Hurley, sick of all the dark looks going around got up to look for some mangoes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 09 2005  @ 07:40 AM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=thinking_thing"&gt;thinking_thing&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;great. I just went back to writing an essay, and now my brain won't work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name="8361430"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 09 2005  @ 07:51 AM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=broken_record"&gt;broken_record&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Desmond looked up. He had heard a noise, not a good noise one of those noises that makes you think "that wasn't a good noise", but inside your head like. He quickly, with the speed of a monkey eager to get some bannanas, jumped out of his chair that he was sitting on, the chair that he had finally worked the perfect groove into, to flick the switch that controlled the setup of mirrors so he could see what and where the not good noise came from. As the mirrors adjusted, the kind of adjustment you would expect would happen from years of therapy, he saw a woman dangling form a piece of rope, or what he assumed to be rope, becasue what else would a woman dangle from. As this image shot through his eyes and into his brain, making the thought process successful. The reusult of said process was, "Wow, a woman dangling". Without anymore thinking he ran, he ran all the way to the gun closet, as that was what he had decided to call the closet that he had come across that was full of guns. He grab two of his favorite guns, and suddenly another thought rambled through the boarder towns of his mind. The thought so clearly seen, like a shiny nickle shinning in a vast space of not shiny things. "I like guns They're shiny".After that thought all possible translations of what happened next were highly plausible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 09 2005  @ 07:56 AM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=back_gammon"&gt;back_gammon&lt;/a&gt; (1536 Posts in the last 90 days) Registered: Sep 24, 2005&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;great. I just went back to writing an essay, and now my brain won't work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;LOL I know exactly what you mean. I just tried to write a post for another thread and had to revise it ten times. Thus, clear writing aids clear thinking. Bad writing turns brains to mush.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 09 2005  @ 08:00 AM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=thinking_thing"&gt;thinking_thing&lt;/a&gt; (134 Posts in the last 90 days) Registered: Dec 03, 2005 but what delicious mush!I think we've stumbled upon parts of our brains that have been ignored for a very long time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name="8361816"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 09 2005  @ 08:03 AM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=back_gammon"&gt;back_gammon&lt;/a&gt;  Yes, and it's so much fun it must be killing millions of brain cells.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 09 2005  @ 08:22 AM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=Hatchcrazy"&gt;Hatchcrazy&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--------------FRUITION THEORY:FRUTOPIA LOST?--------------&lt;br /&gt;''''''''''''''''''Kelvin started the car. It's starter started it. He thought he knew where he was, but that was an illusione. He was supposed to meet him at 15:00 but the clock read 15:16 already. "Where was he?" grumbled Kelvin silently. "I di'dnt come swanning off across the bloody Indian Ocean on some kind of A-team mission to sit in my car and think. The car door opened suddenly. Kelvin's face was a paradox of fear. A portly old man sat down in the car."Are you him?" stumbled Kelvim. "Do I look like a man of faith or a man of science?" portly man said. "A man with answers." yammered Kelvyn "Answers to questions."NEXT: TORT REFORM IN THE SOUTH PACIFIC-----------------or--------------------------"Bali-hai or Bali-low. A missive of hope"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 09 2005  @ 08:34 AM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=libbyrocks05"&gt;libbyrocks05&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I can't wait for.....TORT REFORM IN THE SOUTH PACIFIC-----------------or--------------------------"Bali-hai or Bali-low. A missive of hope"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 09 2005  @ 09:22 AM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=NoNicksinExile"&gt;NoNicksinExile&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt;"MMMM nothing like good bad stories in the morning to make me happier then the happiest thing ever." Said nonicks with lots of whit as he posted on a thread to bump the thread back up to the top which is what bumping does.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 09 2005  @ 09:35 AM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=back_gammon"&gt;back_gammon&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;Shaolin Sawyer and the Lost Kung Fu of Marshall Artz&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The eyes of Sawyer saw her before his nose did. That perfume made his senses activate to whatever biggest extent possible for a man on his back. Swinging up to his fullest height, his legs stood firmly while dimpling in that motley way he had that was only his gift. He had known beautiful women, but this was a fire of unknown origin. But with the dimples of Sawyer, he’d soon be smokin' in the boys room. Sawyer patted a pillow cushion inside his little love shack and pointed with his fingers at it. “Hey beautiful, come over here and put your Patsy on the incline.” Still moving past him, Beautiful’s head did not turn. “Well boogie on, then, Raggae woman,” Sawyer’s mind thought to himself. The paperback book on the bed he was reading suddenly blew open…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 09 2005  @ 09:38 AM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=NoNicksinExile"&gt;NoNicksinExile&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Dude... I totally love reading my bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name="8365481"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Posted: Dec 09 2005  @ 09:49 AM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=captainaeon"&gt;captainaeon&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;The eyes of Sawyer saw her before his nose did.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BG stands for back_gammon and BLOODY GENIUS!!!BRAVO!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 09 2005  @ 10:07 AM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=NoNicksinExile"&gt;NoNicksinExile&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bedtime For Jackypoo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jack had had enough with this. Earlier in the day he had gone to talk with Locke, but had found out he had taken a walk in the jungle in order to go hunting. “I’m tired of Locke not listening to my commands.” Jack yelled at Kate who had walked up next to him earlier. “I just want to do what’s best for all of us.” Jack says indicating the group that was there.“Jack, maybe you just need to take a rest. Sleep for a little bit. People need sleep. You’re a person so you need sleep too.” Kate said her face having scrunched up like a really concerned mom. “Damn it Kate, I don’t need sleep. I’m a Dr, we don’t sleep. Haven’t you ever watched ER? Like back when it was good a few years ago?” Asked jack in anger has he jumped down from the log he had climbed on earlier that day. “I guess it was before my time.” Said Kate, as she was slipping jack a drug to make him sleep in the bowl of water she had handed to him a moment before. Water was something Jack really liked to quench his thirst with, so Kate, being crafty and very intelligent, knew he would drink the whole thing. He did, with a slight slurping sound when he had finished.“Why am I starting to feel drugged?” asked Jack who had recognized the feeling from the time Kate had drugged him a while back. He wasn’t very happy with the fact that she would keep drugging him. Still, he found on the island he had grown attached to her, even though she had been a criminal before they had crashed. He probably shouldn’t trust her, he thought, even knowing that he did.“What will I do now…?” Jack muttered softly to only himself, as Kate lowered him down to the ground. She had not understood what he had said, as the drugs had taken hold of Jack who was now sleeping.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TO BE CONTINUED…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 09 2005  @ 10:44 AM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=MeSlapMeThrowRock"&gt;MeSlapMeThrowRock&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Nicky!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 09 2005  @ 10:57 AM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=back_gammon"&gt;back_gammon&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt;…Stinging still from Beautiful’s rejection, the sudden opening of the book was not noticed by Sawyer’s eyes. He produced a thought to put salve on his pride, which was a wounded sore upon his heart. “She probably serves steak to men on paper plates.” Ha! His wounded festering sore on his heart was better. The paperbook book had some pages that were continuing blowing back and forth amongst themselves. Looking at the book now, a shiver went up its spine and ran through it. Squinting at the waist to bend over better to read the pages as they flapped around, only one thing stood out: something was pointing in the direction of Darlin’ Beautiful, the mysterious Darlin’ Beautiful. Bent over good, Sawyer’s eyes drank thirstily and sucked at the ice cubes of the tall drink that was the title, which cut deeply, as if something stabbed him in the back with a steak knife. The Lost Kung Fu…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 09 2005  @ 11:33 AM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=Hatchcrazy"&gt;Hatchcrazy&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TORT REFORM IN THE SOUTH PACIFIC......................OR...............................Bali-hai or Bali-low. A missive of hope''''''''''''''''''''&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Locke couldn't believe it. His telephone rang and the news was not good. It was bad. His lawyer had decided that sueing the wlkabout company was fruitless."You're going to have to build your own frutopia now." The lawyer spat. "But how can my humble self dissemble the ramble of the right?" Locke said."There should be re-percussion instruments for this sort of thing!!" Locke said. He realised that he would have to send a major missive to the walkabout about this. He had hope but also a lack of hope about this plan. This plan was faulty because the walkabout was just was just a front company for Dharma that had no back. He decided to take a plane flying into the South Pacific the place not the musical into a place that 'noone' could tell him what he can't do. Or what he can. Whatever.NEXT: MUSICAL CHAIRS: A POLYPHONIC SPREE--------------------OR---------------------------Desmond drats the doldrums&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 09 2005  @ 11:36 AM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=MeSlapMeThrowRock"&gt;MeSlapMeThrowRock&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Great missive!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 09 2005  @ 12:05 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=back_gammon"&gt;back_gammon&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt;…The feelings of Sawyer had not been this frightened since that time in Memphis when he woke up still drunk on someone’s front lawn wearing a jet black wig, custom chromed Ray Ban’s, and an honorary Marshall’s badge signed by the real Richard Nixon. For a heart stopping minute he thought he had been reincarnated as Elvis Presley, or Cher in full metal jacket leather. Grabbing a bag soon filled by his hands with necessities of the journey to find Darlin’ Beautiful.“Sawyer!” That was the voice of Artz from the beach somewhere.“Sunshine Superman, at your service.” Sawyer quipped. Meanwhile, behind his back, Sawyer’s mind thought “Buzz off, bumblebee.” “Sawyer! This woman needs you down there! Down there!” Further down the beach, Artz’s arm was pointing toward the rocks. “On the rocks! Sawyer! On the double!” Dropping the bag of necessities Darlin’ Beautiful forgotten figuring all that was necessary he had, Sawyer’s firm abs sprinted down the beach. “Well let’s make it a double, on the rocks,” smirked his vigorous running thighs…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 09 2005  @ 02:18 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=back_gammon"&gt;back_gammon&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...Having finished running, the rocks were nearly there. Overhead from somewhere was a sound like wings flapping, or silk rustling. Sawyer’s eyes stopped dead. What?!! How could this be?!! Artz had beat him there!!! And he was talking to Darlin’ Beautiful. OH NO!His unbelieved eyes rolling, Artz and Darlin’ Beautiful motioned for quiet. “Where is the book?” The head of Sawyer experienced something not unfamiliar. It felt something hard and sharp strike--- Waking from a daze, his limbs realized they couldn’t move. He was in a state of paralysis similar to falling down drunk in a place he’d never seen before. His but his but was smelling funny. What did it smell? Where was this? Incense burned, close to his head, all shaved off in a cave. The head of Sawyer looked to discover his clothes were all gone. Now he wore a plain brown wrapper. He didn’t know what else to call it by name. It was sort of a robe, except…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 09 2005  @ 03:04 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=Hatchcrazy"&gt;Hatchcrazy&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MUSICAL CHAIRS: A POLYPHONIC SPREE&lt;br /&gt;---------------------OR--------------------------&lt;br /&gt;Desmond drats the doldrums''''''''''''''''''''''&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Desmond pushed back his chair backwards from the desk he had been reading papers. "I won't even make it to Cape Horn with those supplies."he wondered. He had been up all nite readying the boat for his journey and now it seemed it was all for not! Now there were these maps he had found showing a totally b!tchin' shortcut through past Austraylia. His wife battered the door. "Why don't you come out of there who cares aboot a dub owld boot anywhere?" "Quiet Libby!" he ejected "If you knew half as much and again as much as half of that you'd know that it's not the dub owld boot you thought it was! Its special!" He was pretty pleased with his response, and it showed. The boat gleamed and winked in the moonlight as like daylight. Now there was the a problem with a the map. All it said at the bottom was "Do not attempt to use a computer for any...." paper ripped off and that was that jack sprat could eat no fat. Des didn't like that. Wasn't PRU-dent to work from such an unsteady platform. Yea, verily he went to the cupboard but it was bare as usually happen. If he got stuck somewhere he would just use the ol' Devastating Desmond charm and nick out of there before anywho's the wizened. Sure, Libby was unnerved but heck she was always unnerved which always unnerved Betty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Partially inspired by the writings of John Lennon 1939-1980)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HAVE A GREAT WEEKEND FANFIC FREAKS!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HATCHCRAZY OUT!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 09 2005  @ 03:26 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=MeSlapMeThrowRock"&gt;MeSlapMeThrowRock&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hatchy, you actually made me say, WTF?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 09 2005  @ 03:34 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=back_gammon"&gt;back_gammon&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;…The keen ears of Sawyer thought they heard something. When his ears thought, Sawyer knew enough to listen. There it was again. Wings flapping. Or. Silk rustling. Standing before him was suddenly Artz and Darlin’ Beautiful. Wearing silk wrappers, all loose and flowing like. So that’s where the sound came from! Duh!“The book, Sawyer. This is about the book.” Seeing Darlin’ Beautiful again, her voice---A big bee came out of nowhere and stung Artz. Artz leaped in the weightless air and swung at the bee with a long sharp sword that stung him. The bee was falling dead as a doorknob and hit the cave floor. Artz slowly settled with that rustling silk sound. “What book is that, Darlin’”?” Sawyer was thinking fast, and his thoughts are thinking faster. Darlin’ Beautiful brought out a plate of tempting delicious cupcakes for Sawyer. She fed some cupcakes to the confused man that she had baked and frosted yesterday. The throat of Sawyer swallowed each bite from her hand. He masticated again and again.But wriggling into a tiny hole in one of the cupcakes, Sawyer spotted a long worm….&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2712872556419020419-2791483148066720998?l=thelosthomeforbadfiction.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thelosthomeforbadfiction.blogspot.com/feeds/2791483148066720998/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2712872556419020419&amp;postID=2791483148066720998' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2712872556419020419/posts/default/2791483148066720998'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2712872556419020419/posts/default/2791483148066720998'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thelosthomeforbadfiction.blogspot.com/2006/12/lionartist-big-idea-page-5.html' title='LIONARTist Big Idea  Page 5'/><author><name>back_gammon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14451548657665179875</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://i18.tinypic.com/2preg6f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2712872556419020419.post-1316834511684494865</id><published>2006-12-28T17:34:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-28T17:37:34.613-05:00</updated><title type='text'>LIONARTist Big Idea Page 4</title><content type='html'>Posted: Dec 08 2005 @ 05:33 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=captainaeon"&gt;captainaeon&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;KATE'S LAMENTKate sat staring into the wetness that was the water of the liquid jungle pool. She longed with deep want to tell Jack the truth of her supposed crime. The truth that she, Kate--yes her!--had blowed up her own daddy while he lay passed out in bed with a fiery gas explosion. But what if he, Jack--yes, him!--rejected her, thinking her crime to be not good? Could she handle his pushing away of her? It was too much to comprehend. And beyond her ableness to understand.Kate thought of him now. What was Jack off doing? Where could he be at? All this thinking was making her hungry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name="8350878"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 08 2005 @ 05:53 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=LA5648"&gt;LA5648&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;LOOK OUT!" Someone whispered loudly from his secretly placed behind...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;His secretly placed behind... oh thats dirty!yep cap and you have a harlequin romance novel in each of you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name="8350982"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 08 2005 @ 05:58 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=back_gammon"&gt;back_gammon&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;bg--that is some of the funniest writing I have ever read with my eyes and brain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;Should I take that as encouragement to...umh...write more?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 08 2005 @ 06:12 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=back_gammon"&gt;back_gammon&lt;/a&gt; (1536 Posts in the last 90 days) Registered: Sep 24, 2005&lt;br /&gt;…Charlie whipped around, his body turning slowly, at the direction of the whispering. From a secret place behind, he looked to see, but wasn't seeing anything. Pandemonium was now taking place. All ears having heard the crash, they now needed explaining.And Claire! She was running toward the pandemonium of the people! Straight toward the fallen tree which stood on the ground, on its side, roots in the air….The confusion of Charlie's thinking was growing worser. Turning on the sand, the sound of the whispers came again...&lt;a name="8351365"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name="8351589"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a name="8351738"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Posted: Dec 08 2005 @ 06:28 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=Lost_SoccerGirl23a"&gt;Lost_SoccerGirl23a&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;here's mine : Claire gets the feeling she's being followed,by who, she didnt know. So Claire throws a rock out into the bushes. "Ow..." with a faint crashing sound, Charlie walks out of the brush. "Knocked me outta a tree with this." Charlie says, showing Claire the rock. "Charlie, were you following me?" "If I was following you why would I be up in a tree?" Claire was just about to answer when a twig breaks somewhere behind them. "Maybe you should use your rock throwing skills..." A crunch comes from directly in back of them this time. They whirl around to see what was going on, but it was too late... to be continued&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 08 2005 @ 06:33 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=MeSlapMeThrowRock"&gt;MeSlapMeThrowRock&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a harsh light. The kind of light you see in a dingy barroom that employs a surly bartender with a heart of gold. The light was shining directly on Sawyer’s wound on his bulging bicep. It was the kind of bulging you see when your uncle consumes too much at the dinner table before he loosens his belt a notch or two. Jack examined the wound, thinking to himself that this was bad, real bad. The kind of bad that happens when you ain’t expecting something bad to happen, but it does. He heard a scuffle of feet behind him. Looking over his shoulder he saw Kate standing there. She was the kind of woman a guy could fall for and fall for hard. Hard, like the look you get from the surly bartender with a heart gold in the dingy barroom.Kate was wondering what Jack was thinking about as he looked at her. She wondered like a child wonders what makes the sky blue and the grass green. She took a step towards him and saw the hurt in his eyes. He knew. He had to know how she felt about Sawyer. That she had fallen for him hard and fast. Like a drunk falls for a bottle of scotch. Forget the ice cubes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 08 2005 @ 06:35 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=back_gammon"&gt;back_gammon&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;…Leaving the pandemonium of the fallen tree, Charlie's head moved in the direction of a sound he thought he heard.His eyes locked onto Claire's even though they were separated by the pandemonium for a brief, romantic moment of feeling each other on the sandy beach. But. It would be dark soon. Charlie jerked his eyes away from Claire's big ones, and he forced himself to look at the surrounding areas. All the rocks were over there, Charlie's thoughts told him. The whispering sound might have come from behind the rocks. Having heard the sound, it now needed following....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 08 2005 @ 06:36 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=back_gammon"&gt;back_gammon&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Jack examined the wound, thinking to himself that this was bad, real bad. The kind of bad that happens when you ain’t expecting something bad to happen, but it does.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LOL Noir dime novels rule!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 08 2005 @ 06:40 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=MeSlapMeThrowRock"&gt;MeSlapMeThrowRock&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know! They're so bad they're good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 08 2005 @ 06:40 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=captainaeon"&gt;captainaeon&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Noir du jour!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 08 2005 @ 06:42 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=MeSlapMeThrowRock"&gt;MeSlapMeThrowRock&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think we need a Bad LOST Fan Fic Blog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 08 2005 @ 06:45 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=captainaeon"&gt;captainaeon&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The thoughts in my brain agree with your words.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name="8352274"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 08 2005 @ 06:46 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=thinking_thing"&gt;thinking_thing&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;She was the kind of woman a guy could fall for and fall for hard. Hard, like the look you get from the surly bartender with a heart gold in the dingy barroom.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;I thought the point was to write badly?! That was just brilliant!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 08 2005 @ 06:47 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=MeSlapMeThrowRock"&gt;MeSlapMeThrowRock&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought the point was to write badly?! That was just brilliant!&lt;br /&gt;I'm trying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 08 2005 @ 06:55 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=captainsandwich"&gt;captainsandwich&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i didn't realize there was an asshat outpost. Jin felt nervous. He was hearing his name, but he didn't know why. He was in a foreign land, in a foreign place, but how did they know his name. He had flown across the globe to deliver the watch. His instructions, meet the man with the red hat at the Tanqueray tasting event at the bar at Vitellos. But why? Why was everyone saying his name.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 08 2005 @ 06:59 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=captainaeon"&gt;captainaeon&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LOCKE'S ADVENTURELocke moved through the jungle-like trees like a panther man. Nary a squish did his feet in his shoes make as his legs walked him with quiet strides along the path of his soon to be dinner. Locke waxed his philosophical as he tracked his juicy prey. Now, a boar walking on four legs but soon roasted meat parts, served up with a side of mango slaw. It was the way of the jungle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 08 2005 @ 07:02 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=hurleys_girl"&gt;hurleys_girl&lt;/a&gt; (&lt;br /&gt;Coming soon: My Season Two FanficEp 1. Asshat of Science, Asshat of Faith Ep 2. Adrift With The Haunted See MonsterEp 3. DisorientationEp 4. Everybody Hates AaronEp 5. ..Herion FoundEp 6. Abandoned and Left For DeadEp 7. The Other 48 SecondsEp 8. Ecoli-isionEp 9. Who Kate Did&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name="8352893"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a name="8353042"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Posted: Dec 08 2005 @ 07:12 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=back_gammon"&gt;back_gammon&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;…Running across the sand to where the pebbles began, the rocks shifted beneath the shoes he wore, and the balance of Charlie was no more. Before he knew it, he saw medium sized rocks piled near a boulder. Bam! He fell. Piled near the big boulder, he found himself looking at the sky over on his back.“LOOK OUT!” the whispering again. Closer this time. Charlie blinked blood and sand from his eyes on his back. And tears. Yes tears. The eyes which only moments before had locked as one with Claire’s and moved, yes moved, romantically, his heart and hers across time and space toward each other as if drawn by animal magnetism…Stop it. He blinked back the tears, for he felt his eyes had betrayed him.“Look out....” Softer now. Further away.Moving into the trees now, the sound growing fainter, Charlie roused himself and was leaping to follow it, limping, tears and blood streaming down his face with the headwound…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name="8353103"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name="8353317"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Posted: Dec 08 2005 @ 07:22 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=MeSlapMeThrowRock"&gt;MeSlapMeThrowRock&lt;/a&gt; (4501 Posts in the last 90 days) Registered: Mar 23, 2005&lt;br /&gt;Charlie was a git and he knew it. Knew it deep down in the recesses of his mangy mind. Bloody rock-god had fallen and fallen hard. Fallen, like his arches. Now he had to wear Scholls’ arch supports in his poncy shoes. He shook himself from his reverie and looked askance at Claire.Claire walked away, quickly. Quickly, like her boyfriend left her pregnant and alone. The little runt wouldn’t leave her alone. He kept taking off with her baby. One day he took Turniphead without telling her and she was forced to run around screaming, “A wacko took my baaabyyy!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name="8353966"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 08 2005 @ 07:47 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=back_gammon"&gt;back_gammon&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;…Running after the whispers, Charlie limped into the jungle. He felt inside his pants pocket for a while until he found what he was seeking for but it took him a while. There. He pulled out a pair of glasses no one knew but him about. Rain began to fall and all the jungle leaves was getting wet and glisteny. Rounding a corner, near a stream, a really big horse was seen by the eyes of Charlie wearing the glasses, without which he had never been seen.Charlie was staring at the big horse wearing glasses by the stream.“Go back, Charlie…Go back....” Charlie’s head shook in confusion of the sounds his ears were listening to. Did they come from the jungle? The horse? Or his own deepest fears…“Charlie?” It was Claire! Right behind him! Oh no! He grabbed the glasses from before his eyes, but she had seen too much and the glasses didn't help. She ran.The big horse snorted and pawed the ground. Once, twice. Sounding like a drum. "Claire?" Chasing and calling, she ran into the jungle. "Claire! Stop!" But she didn't as the horse bolted itself behind her, and Charlie too.Driving them further into the jungle, the big horse galloped, riderless, driving them into the darkness of the jungle at night, as only a jungle can be dark at night, yet with a knowing sureness of foot that made Charlie's neck shiver with the feeling of hairs raising up all by themselves...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2712872556419020419-1316834511684494865?l=thelosthomeforbadfiction.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thelosthomeforbadfiction.blogspot.com/feeds/1316834511684494865/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2712872556419020419&amp;postID=1316834511684494865' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2712872556419020419/posts/default/1316834511684494865'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2712872556419020419/posts/default/1316834511684494865'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thelosthomeforbadfiction.blogspot.com/2006/12/lionartist-big-idea-page-4.html' title='LIONARTist Big Idea Page 4'/><author><name>back_gammon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14451548657665179875</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://i18.tinypic.com/2preg6f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2712872556419020419.post-6319486291723000359</id><published>2006-12-28T16:31:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-28T16:40:38.244-05:00</updated><title type='text'>LIONARTist Big Idea Page 3</title><content type='html'>Posted: Dec 08 2005 @ 02:21 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=dhinged"&gt;dhinged&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jack saw the mirror as he almost got down the hatch-pipe after tying a rope to his waist to lower himself down. He was afraid Kate had already gone down the hatch, which was why he was down here in the first place. He didn't see any sign of Kate, but that might have been her shoes which he saw laying on the ground facing perpindicular to his viewing point of the shoes, just past the mirror. He pulled out a flashlight, which was black and gave off a bright white light that luminositied the entire place, including the walls, the ground, and the other ceiling above. He saw a painting, which reminded him of the fingerpainting he did as a child in kindergarten school. It looked just like a child's painting. The number "108" scrawled across it flamboyantly like a well-known painter had painted it using crazy strokes with a messy paint brush, that wasn't too big but wasn't too small either; just the right size. As he walked down the hallway, he was scared as he kept seeing the things on the walls and around him. He saw a giant black metal thing in the wall which he saw, which attracted the key around his neck like a bird to a bird-call. He wasn't sure whether to panic and run like hell or just look at the wall, looking for some sign of a door handle or a key. He found no key so he left and walked again down the hall, looking for something, anything, that might be Kate down the hall. Whatever it was he sensed, he thought it might be his third-sense looking for something that he could never find. He was shocked when the music played, and rotated his gun around as he looked on in shock and saw nobody there. He knew the music was there, but couldn't find anybody. Suddenly he turned around and a computer was standing there, as he walked right up to it and inspected it with his glowing flashlight. The computer had an "Execute" button, but he wasn't willing to push it as it was flashing green and you couldn't type any text into it. Suddenly the music stopped, but this wasn't the end of his adventure, as a guy said "Hold it right there, brutha" and Jack flipped around and saw Locke standing there staring at him. The strange thing about Locke was that he was facing Jack, but behind him and to the left was a guy holding a pistol out from his arm, with the rest of him behind a wall. The pistol was pointed at the top of Locke's head. Jack pulled his pistol out, which he brought with him from a suitcase he found buried in the sand from a Marshall who had locked it and they couldn't find the key except for digging up the body which Kate tried to steal and she wanted the little airplane. It's amazing she found that airplane at all because the fire marshall had kept it in his bag which was located on top of the luggage rack and hit him in the head. That was all in the past now because Jack knew that Locke had a gun pointed to his head now. And Jacke could do nothing about it. Except pull out his gun and point it at the guy holding the gun behind Locke. "Drop the gun or I'll blow a hole in his head!" Said a voice behind the gun. Locke kept staring. Jacke wanted to know where Kate was so he said "Where is Kate!" The guy said "Drop it bloody brother or I'll blow his head off!" Too bad Jacke had the gun because he wouldn't drop it. He just wanted to shoot whoever had the gun. Locke said "It's not worth it", and Jacke said "Is this what you wanted?" and Locke said nothing and then Jacke said "All roads end here?" Locke was confused and started shaking his head, but it didn't do him any good because the guy behind the other gun came out and said "You don't want me to kill him do you brutha?" and Jack knew who it was. It was Desmond, who he met while jogging up stairs while Desmond was. Desmond was jogging and saw Jack and they both met and Jack says "You're running around the world heh?" and Desmond says "Yes, it's a polar express race, and you should lift it up". "Huh?" Jacke says, and Desmond says "Lift her up". at which point Jack nods his head and now he recognizes him in the hatch. "You." Jack says. THE END&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name="8345227"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Posted: Dec 08 2005 @ 02:24 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=libbyrocks05"&gt;libbyrocks05&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He pulled out a flashlight, which was black and gave off a bright white light that luminositied the entire place, including the walls, the ground, and the other ceiling above. He saw a painting, which reminded him of the fingerpainting he did as a child in kindergarten school. It looked just like a child's painting. The number "108" scrawled across it flamboyantly like a well-known painter had painted it using crazy strokes with a messy paint brush, that wasn't too big but wasn't too small either; just the right size. This is priceless....ROFLMAO.luminositied is that a word?????&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 08 2005 @ 02:37 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=Hatchcrazy"&gt;Hatchcrazy&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Know why I love this thread? It's all the stuff my writing teachers told me NOT to do."luminositied" ROTFLMAO!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name="8345627"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 08 2005 @ 02:39 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=LIONARTist"&gt;LIONARTist&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I always thought it was "Luminositized".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name="8345796"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Posted: Dec 08 2005 @ 02:44 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=Hatchcrazy"&gt;Hatchcrazy&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I always thought it was "Luminositized".&lt;br /&gt;You're thinking of "Lumina-sitized"The act of being trapped in a Chevy Lumina.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name="8345874"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 08 2005 @ 02:47 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=LIONARTist"&gt;LIONARTist&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hey! Don't laugh. That actually happened to me once. I had to eat the interior and drink my own urine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 08 2005 @ 02:51 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=MeSlapMeThrowRock"&gt;MeSlapMeThrowRock&lt;/a&gt; (4501 Posts in the last 90 days) Registered: Mar 23, 2005&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Hey! Don't laugh. That actually happened to me once. I had to eat the interior and drink my own urine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;Isn't that par for the course with all Lumina owners?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 08 2005 @ 03:12 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=back_gammon"&gt;back_gammon&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Having Heard the Sound, It Now Needed Following&lt;br /&gt;The blonde hair of Claire bounced silently in the sunshine of which there was too much since it landed on the island without anyone knowing where they were.“Oh,” Claire exclaimed! The one syllable word ejected from her mouth like a calm and well rested test pilot in a fast roaring jet from the government. Charlie told his eyes to feast hungrily, as if no one could see him at the mouth of Claire. They did.“Claire, what is it?” he inquired with a loud sigh that was sounding to his ears like both had come together and meeting on top of his head. He was turning his neck and his head followed it to see something else. Shannon was walking the dog in a short skirt. “Hair brushes, Charlie. Did you find any hairbrushes?” Claire’s hair was the best in the land. It had survived everything of consequence with no problem of passing every test of her truest beauty. The thoughts of Charlie suddenly remembered something right about then…...The dying wishes of his grandmother who was living in Bristol...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name="8346794"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 08 2005 @ 03:15 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=captainaeon"&gt;captainaeon&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Shannon was walking the dog in a short skirt. &lt;insert&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name="8346856"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Posted: Dec 08 2005 @ 03:16 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=LIONARTist"&gt;LIONARTist&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I loved it. Very bad indeed. I think Hatch will be wanting to sign you up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name="8346889"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Posted: Dec 08 2005 @ 03:17 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=LIONARTist"&gt;LIONARTist&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Shannon was walking the dog in a short skirt.&lt;/em&gt; How that dog got into that skirt, I'll never know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name="8347012"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 08 2005 @ 03:20 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=MeSlapMeThrowRock"&gt;MeSlapMeThrowRock&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clash of the Titus&lt;br /&gt;Ana-Lucia looked up from the knife she was buffing to a fine sheen. It was Libby that had been making that grunting noise. Ana-Lucia turned ninety degrees and shot her a look that could kill. Fortunately, Libby was wearing a Kevlar vest. But, she thought it best to stop with the grunting noises; after all it wasn’t that important that she shave both her legs. She shot Ana-Lucia a darting look. Fortunately, Ana-Lucia was wearing a dartboard across her chest. Libby’s shot missed the bull’s eye so she was only awarded five points.Ana-Lucia decided that it was time to talk to Libby about the “INCIDENT”. After removing the dartboard from her chest, she walked right up to Libby’s trench and aggitatedly said, “I have a bone to pick with you.” Vincent, who was a few miles away but had amazing hearing abilities, perked up. Meanwhile, Libby put down her Lady Shick razor and climbed out of her trench, yelling back to the French troops, “Les garcons, vous restez ici et gardez les mangues.” They answered back, “Oui.” Ana-Lucia backed up, as French language speakers was the only thing in this rotten world that frightened her. Libby advanced on Ana-Lucia with stern intent written all over face. Ana-Lucia, trying to appease Libby-the-French-speaker, handed Libby a handkerchief to wipe the stern intent from her face. The French troops spotting this gesture mistook it for an act of aggression against the mangoes they were guarding and aimed the trebuchet at Ana-Lucia killing her dead, deader than a doornail.Libby whirled around 180 degrees and realized she had turned too far and then whirled around ninety degrees. She shot the French troops a darting glance killing them all because they had neglected to wear their dartboards that day.The End&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name="8347241"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Posted: Dec 08 2005 @ 03:28 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=LIONARTist"&gt;LIONARTist&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to admit, the French-speaking part scared me a little.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name="8347277"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Posted: Dec 08 2005 @ 03:29 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=LIONARTist"&gt;LIONARTist&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We must save this thread and mold all the stories into one cohesive book. It'll sell millions. MILLIONS I TELL YA!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 08 2005 @ 03:30 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=mistressshake"&gt;mistressshake&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Claire stared at Locke, she was unsure about what he was proposing, that she should come into the jungle with him, not that they should get married, although later on this is even funnier because Charlie thinks there something going on between them. So she got up, when Locke offered her his hand to lift her up, and followed him into the jungle where he said he would put her to work. That was strange because she was 8 and a half months pregnant and probably shouldn’t be doing any type of labor, other than the kind where she’d have the baby. 8 was also one of the numbers that everyone is always talking about, but they’re talking about it later because at this point in the story no one knows about them yet but Hurley, and he says they’re bad.When they get to the jungle, Locke begins cutting down trees and talking to Claire on light topics. Claire appreciates Locke’s attempt to make her feel comfortable, and even though she is a bit wary, since she’s just let a near stranger drag her into the deep foliage without letting anyone know where she is going, she gives him a small smile, the kind she saves for people she is humoring, like when she went to a psychic and she thought he was full of it, but then it turns out he was just trying to kill her because there is some weird thing about her baby, which she doesn’t even really want, but he gave her back her money which she used to buy those curtains.All day goes by and Locke and Claire are still doing something with these sticks and twigs and she can’t really tell what it is they are doing, but she’s grateful that she’s no longer sawing away on these branches because even though she got to sit down, it sure felt like manual labor, which she shouldn’t be doing because she’s very pregnant and with all of the trauma, from when there was a plane crash and an explosion and she was hurled through the air with a guy named Hurley, she’s in a fragile state.It’s been getting dark for a while and Locke is still making polite conversation, even though a lot of times it seems like he’s trying to make some huge point or other and she never seems to catch on until he reveals his true intentions at the end. Claire tells Locke it is her birthday, secretly hoping for some attention because she’s been pretty neglected since her boyfriend left and a little sympathy would be great, especially since they’ve been on this island for a while now and the only person willing to wait on her hand and foot is Charlie, and the service is awesome but he’s just not that hot. Locke tells Claire that its good luck for her birthday to be close to the baby’s, and she can’t really imagine why that would be so she smiles that smile again and hopes that something else will happen soon to break the tension in the air. When nothing happens she realizes that she wants to know what it is they’ve been making all day, its surely some kind of weapon or a boat to get them all off the island, so she just blurts out the question accidentally letting some of her frustration leak out, as well as a bit of gas. Locke wishes her happy birthday and turns the object they’ve been working on all day upside down, which doesn’t make any sense at all. It really did look like some sort of table and exactly what good would a table be if you had to place your item down in it instead of on top of it. Claire suddenly realizes that Locke has been making a cradle all day long, for the baby and she gives him a big genuine smile as thanks, though hiding the fact that she’s sore she had to help make her own birthday present.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 08 2005 @ 03:39 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=Hatchcrazy"&gt;Hatchcrazy&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;We must save this thread and mold all the stories into one cohesive book. It'll sell millions. MILLIONS I TELL YA!!!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think we should all get a chapter to write.Mine will be called "A treatise on Bio-Electronic Wavelengths." and it will mostly concern Charlie partying with his band.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 08 2005 @ 03:43 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=back_gammon"&gt;back_gammon&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...Charlie had been eavesdropping and overheard that his Grandmother intended to throw a surprise party for him outside her kitchen window.But she was forever dead now, Charlie remembered, that he was alive, and, so however, was Claire’s hair. And she wanted a brush. He stood up to go, sand scattering and searching for one or more with bristles.While walking down the beach, a tree began to fall…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 08 2005 @ 03:51 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=back_gammon"&gt;back_gammon&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's it from me. I can't misplace or dangle any more modifiers on an empty stomach.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 08 2005 @ 04:01 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=MeSlapMeThrowRock"&gt;MeSlapMeThrowRock&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dangling participles are good if you melt cheese on them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 08 2005 @ 04:33 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=back_gammon"&gt;back_gammon&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...Without looking to see the tree, his feet ran.All the ears on the beach were on the tree now, as it crashed. Charlie just made it in time. Out of the way of the tree that all the ears were on. "OH" ! Running up the beach came the sound of Claire's exclamation. Charlie thought it sounded like a gentle breeze between both his ears. "Charlie," are you all right? Claire questioned him in that way she did."LOOK OUT!" Someone whispered loudly from his secretly placed behind...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2712872556419020419-6319486291723000359?l=thelosthomeforbadfiction.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thelosthomeforbadfiction.blogspot.com/feeds/6319486291723000359/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2712872556419020419&amp;postID=6319486291723000359' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2712872556419020419/posts/default/6319486291723000359'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2712872556419020419/posts/default/6319486291723000359'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thelosthomeforbadfiction.blogspot.com/2006/12/big-ideas-page-3.html' title='LIONARTist Big Idea Page 3'/><author><name>back_gammon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14451548657665179875</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://i18.tinypic.com/2preg6f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2712872556419020419.post-7680968587613804763</id><published>2006-12-28T11:08:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-28T11:14:34.199-05:00</updated><title type='text'>LIONARTist Big Idea  Page 2</title><content type='html'>Posted: Dec 08  2005 @ 12:38 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=captainaeon"&gt;captainaeon&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The seriousness of your humor makes me laugh indubitably&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 08  2005 @ 12:38 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=NoNicksinExile"&gt;NoNicksinExile&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt;What LION really meant:To be good the way, that center being enormous to vengeance in his, however how doing, the calm person, jack, and Kate which were pulled. "If the large person where it is said it is not very careful," it does not become. "She possesses the sickness". The jack was in impact and confusion. So, so, that he lost that grip of Kate, the large stone and murder where therefore she lowered directly with sluggishly the external wound of power of the worst change, hit her time it is. "Is that and fair. As for her dying in you, as for me JOOP "the jack is already shown afterwards it was the person who dressed the enormous funnily clothes which are found. Although the jack died and was attached unseemly of Kate and directly she was love of that life, you had forgotten. According to something which "is meant speech as for the sickness? "&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 08  2005 @ 12:40 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=NoNicksinExile"&gt;NoNicksinExile&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or:The very large, nevertheless somehow light man with vengeance in its heart, the pulled Jack to it and the Kate in addition. "you must take care much", the large said chap. "it has the illness". Jack was in the impact and in the fright. As much so, he lost his grasp on Kate and her fell completely thrashes and struck any large rock, thus toetung her by stump strength trauma of the worst multiplicity. "it is also quite. It was dead to you and I already "said the very large funnily dressed man, who became later Jack called Mr. JOOP would find out. Jack forgot fast over Kates unseemly death, although it was the love of its life. "which you mean, by saying, the ILLNESS?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 08 @ 12:44 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=LIONARTist"&gt;LIONARTist&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;EXACTLY!!! Gawsh, I wish I had your talent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name="8341716"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Posted: Dec 08  2005 @ 12:48 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=NoNicksinExile"&gt;NoNicksinExile&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.... read it with a shaksperean flair&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 08  2005@ 12:49 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=MeSlapMeThrowRock"&gt;MeSlapMeThrowRock&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a cold and lonely night. Actually, it was lonelier rather than cold because night missed day very much. The stars in the night sky warmed the night a little because they are massive bodies of plasma in outer space that produce energy through nuclear fusion. So, as night waited for day to return, thunder and lightening gossiped.That was neither here nor there because Sawyer was a man of wild nature and nature treated him as one of its own. As Sawyer knelt down to examine a blade of grass, he noticed another blade of grass that leaned towards him ever so slightly as though indicating it understood his pain. All of a sudden Sawyer stood up straight as an arrow, much as the Dharma arrow station’s arrow stood within the Dharma logo in that particular station. Hark, what was that? Could it be? I don’t know, could it? Perhaps? Perhaps not. As Sawyer frantically searched for the source of the noise that had peaked his interest and the hairs on the nape of his neck and the blade in the grass, the sound moved closer. Suddenly he spotted Charlie on the grassy knoll behind him. Charlie was atop a riding mower that he must have retrieved from the Dharma agricultural station. Charlie was yelling something at Sawyer, however, Sawyer could not understand what he was saying due to the riding mower that Charlie had obtained from the Dharma agricultural station that was making too loud a noise. Sawyer ran towards Charlie as Charlie rode towards Sawyer much like in the promos for the movie “10” starring Dudley Moore and Bo Derek. Sawyer’s hair flowed and frolicked in the high winds coming off the churning ocean’s surf much like in the Old Spice commericals and Charlie’s teeth clattered together as he rode ever faster over the grassy knoll much like my gardener does every day. As they drew closer to one another, Sawyer finally could hear what Charlie had been yelling at him over when he was on the grassy knoll riding the riding mower he had obtained from the Dharma agricultural station; Charlie had been yelling for Sawyer to move out of his way, which was a moot point now that Sawyer was standing in front of Charlie and his riding mower.Charlie realized the miscalculation he had made. But, he thought to himself it was an easy miscalculation to make afterall two plus two is not easy to grasp. But enough of that, he thought to himself I must tend to the matter at hand. So, as Charlie sized up the situation with Sawyer, Sawyer sized up the situation with Charlie. There they stood, well Charlie was still seated, mano a mano, studying each other with an intensity that burned much like the stars in the night sky because they are massive bodies of plasma in outer space that produce energy through nuclear fusion. Suddenly, both Sawyer and Charlie heard a shot. Suddenly, Charlie feels a pain in his chest and burps. Then Sawyer feels a rumbling in his stomach and says to Charlie, “Excuse me.” Then Sayid suddenly appears as if from nowhere much like my cat does from under the sofa and tells both Sawyer and Charlie to “run, run da do run run”. Sawyer and Charlie exchange glances when Sawyer suddenly remembers the blade of grass that understood his pain. &lt;em&gt;To be continued…&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 08 2005  @ 12:58 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=captainaeon"&gt;captainaeon&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Charlie's Early Morning Daybreak Adventure"Charlie was taking a walk in the dense, tree-filled jungle. He had a headache. The ache in his head was hurtfully painful and large. It was so large in fact that an aspirin of the size large enough to cease its hurtful nature would be so large as to be unswallowable. (Unless, of course, he was an anaconda and could unhinge his jaw. That would be cool.) The pain was like slamming a car door on his hand repeatedly, over and over again and then some more even. Charlie, sighed a breath of air. It had been so long since he had had a car door to slam on his hand, he could barely remember what it was like. He waxed his nostalgia thinking of the past, yesterdays of long ago and far away, and things gone by in the past. Thinking made his head exfolliate.In the distance over there, Charlie saw a visual sight that made him as mesmerized. It was almost like being hypnotised under a spell of hypnotic hypnosis. He couldn’t believe what he saw walking towards his place of standing up.‘Elephants...yeah...’&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name="8342211"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Posted: Dec 08 2005  2005  @ 12:59 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=MeSlapMeThrowRock"&gt;MeSlapMeThrowRock&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cappy! Ella's pants! YEAH&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name="8342361"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Posted: Dec 08 2005  2005  @ 01:02 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=mistressshake"&gt;mistressshake&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;these are fantasmagorical to read, but why do i feel like i'm taking the sat's?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name="8342425"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Posted: Dec 08 2005  2005  @ 01:04 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=LIONARTist"&gt;LIONARTist&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sorry Slap. But this is so BAD that it qualifies as GOOD. Therefore it really shouldn't be included in the BAD portion of our program. I think it speaks to me, and says, "Go wash your hands. Didn't you just use the restroom?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name="8342484"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Posted: Dec 08 2005  2005  @ 01:05 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=LIONARTist"&gt;LIONARTist&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He waxed his nostalgia thinking of the past, I have often waxed my nostalgia. But only when the wife was out of town.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name="8342501"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 08 2005  2005  @ 01:08 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=captainaeon"&gt;captainaeon&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I disagree. Slap has achieved badness very much so indeed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name="8342901"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Posted: Dec 08 2005  @ 01:15 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=LIONARTist"&gt;LIONARTist&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alright. I'll allow it. Have my previous remarks stricken from the record and paddle me repeatedly with my toothbrush.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name="8343257"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Posted: Dec 08 2005  @ 01:23 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=NoNicksinExile"&gt;NoNicksinExile&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jack looked angrily at the book held in the hand that was his. “Give that back!” He yelled at Locke, standing a few feet from him.“Give what back?” Asked Locke, his face an image of the confusion he felt.“The book!” Yelled jack, starting to get angrier then before.“I don’t have the book.” Explained Locke, calmly halting his progress skinning the recently killed boar. “You have the book. Look at what the story just said… ‘Jack looked angrily at the book in the hand which was his…’ that’s your hand not mine.”“What are you talking about?” Asked jack, now getting more confused then he was getting angry. Locke was talking a lot and it made him very confused.“Look... You’re doing it again… I’m not very confused. You are..." He was a patient man, but he wanted to get back to his boar.Jack looked on as if he hadn’t heard Locke speaking. His eyes were glassy like glass.“Right then…” Continued Locke, “I’m just going to finish up here if you don’t mind.”Jack didn’t.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name="8343395"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 08 2005  @ 01:27 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=captainaeon"&gt;captainaeon&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;“Right then…” Continued Locke, “I’m just going to finish up here if you don’t mind.”Jack didn’t.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;Bravo!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name="8343435"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a name="8343470"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Posted: Dec 08 2005  @ 01:28 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=LIONARTist"&gt;LIONARTist&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt;You guys are professionals, aren't you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name="8343738"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Posted: Dec 08 2005  @ 01:36 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=Hatchcrazy"&gt;Hatchcrazy&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You guys are takin it to the house today!"It's Captainaeon setting a screen for MeSlap......pass to MeSlap, behind the back to NoNicks.......for a fadeaway jumper!!!!IT'S GOOD! IT'S GOOD!!THE SLAPHATS WIN THE PENNANT!!THE SLAPHATS WIN THE PENNANT!!(I know it's from baseball but at this point who cares)scurries off to compose his own wretched fan fiction&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name="8343799"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Posted: Dec 08 2005  @ 01:38 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=captainaeon"&gt;captainaeon&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;You guys are professionals, aren't you?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Butt of coursedly!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name="8344148"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2712872556419020419-7680968587613804763?l=thelosthomeforbadfiction.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thelosthomeforbadfiction.blogspot.com/feeds/7680968587613804763/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2712872556419020419&amp;postID=7680968587613804763' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2712872556419020419/posts/default/7680968587613804763'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2712872556419020419/posts/default/7680968587613804763'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thelosthomeforbadfiction.blogspot.com/2006/12/lionartist-big-idea-page-2.html' title='LIONARTist Big Idea  Page 2'/><author><name>back_gammon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14451548657665179875</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://i18.tinypic.com/2preg6f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2712872556419020419.post-9176162468492375469</id><published>2006-12-28T10:08:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-01-02T18:20:20.532-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='December 2005'/><title type='text'>In the Beginning: LIONARTist gets a big idea.</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;I'd love to blame all this on LION. He's the one who started the original thread. But as you will see, it didn't take long for the rest of us to leap aboard what soon became a runaway train. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;insert&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;bg&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 08 2005@ 09:25 AM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=LIONARTist"&gt;LIONARTist&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's my entry into the museum.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chapter 1: The ReckoningJack stumbled out of the jungle in an awkward stumbling gate. He had just been through the worst night of his life and it was about to get even worse.His body ached in every muscle. His head throbbed like some great big throbbing thing that hurt real bad, and his ankles were sore and disconcerting. He felt like he had been put through a washing machine on a hot summer's day and he knew what that was like. Oh yes, he knew.He had just fought a great battle with the nameless island monster, which turned out to be a mass of churning alien insects from planet Gamma-X90. He had defeated the monster using the refridgerator magnets that Sayid had so thoughtfully slipped into his jeans pockets without him knowing it was even possible to do such a thing. Lucky thing for Jack that the insects proved vulnerable to the EM forces that the magnets exuded.Now he stood facing east and feeling like the worst part of his journey was over. That is until he spied a sight which was unbelievable, even to his scientific eyes. Off in the distance, about 1 mile, he viewed Kate, running fast towards the spot where he now stood. She was running very fast. He could tell she was running fast. Because pools of sweat had appeared on her shirt between her heaving breasts and she was making a face as if she was straining to run and run like the wind. She approached him and got closer and closer. Then, even closer still, until at last, she was almost upon him. As she ran, Jack could see that Kate had a glazed look in her eye. She didn't appear to be herself. It frightened Jack and he began to get worried about what fate may await him.As Kate reached Jack, he finally noticed the large pointed stick that she seemed to be carrying in her left hand. Jack thought that was odd. Because as everyone knew, Kate was right-handed. "That's odd", Jack thought to himself, as Kate thrust the pointed stick towards his waiting spleen. If it wasn't for his lightning reflexes, Jack would've got a spleenectomy. He grabbed Kate and together they tumbled over the cliff that Jack hadn't noticed until just at that moment in time. They fell for what seemed like an eternity, and then something grabbed at Jack's leg. Even though Kate had just about tried to kill him, he instinctively lashed his arm out and caught Kate and stopped her from falling any further down, down, down the face of the very frightening embankment. Just then Jack looked and saw that what was ahold of his leg was a huge man dressed in the garments of the Zulu tribesmen. What new exciting adventures await Jack and Kate and the other castaways on the LOST ISLAND!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 08 2005@ 09:39 AM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=LIONARTist"&gt;LIONARTist&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is another writer who inspired me. I'll leave them as anonymous unless they want to claim their work.It was a really dark night on the island of mysteries. It was storming. It was a dark and stormy night. Not a star was in the sky.. Well, they were in the sky but they couldn't be seen because there were so many clouds. Lightning thundered across the sky. Thunder lightninged to the ground. It was really scary. It was the type of night that "others" could snatch you at any time.Jack had traveled many miles across the island to get from the beach back to the caves. On his way back to the caves Jack could here running footsteps all around him. Jack wasn't scared. Jack was a man of science. Jack was going to the caves because he thought the caves would be safer during the storm. He didn't know that he would end up saving people's lives but he would.Jack realized that he could not find the caves and that he was "lost". Jack pitched a "tent" out of some blankets that he was bringing to the caves. The "tent was pitched at the bottom of a really scary dark hill with a really scary cave(that wasn't the cave he was looking for) on the top that could only be seen when the lightning flashed. He was brave. He ate some mangos and went to sleep in the tent that he had pitched so that he could sleep in it.Later in the night, Jack was awakened by a really scary scream(that sounded familiar). Someone is in trouble, thought Jack. Loud whispers were heard. Jack could see a very large man on top of the hill as lightning still flashed in the distance(it had stopped raining by now). Jack could hear a voice that was loud and scary. He had a long sharp stick. Jack approached the man, he noticed blood on the stick. Jack assumed that the man had killed people before. He was a mean "other" who liked to kill people with his stick. He was going to kill people with his stick tonight."I will go to the survivors and take one of them tonight", the man shouted. "It has to be a child because that would seem more evil than if it was just anybody. Maybe I'll kill an old man and a woman too. That would be very evil and cruel," the man yelled. So he picked up his stick which he had set down while he was talking so that he could gesture with his grotesque(or gross if that is spelled wrong) hands. He left to snatch a child. And maybe an old man or a woman too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 08 2005 @ 10:01 AM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=libbyrocks05"&gt;libbyrocks05&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vincent awakens with a start. "What was that?" He thought.It was a bear. A great, big, shiney white polar bear.See Vincent run.Run, Vincent, run.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 08 2005 @ 10:27 AM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=dad_of_4_"&gt;dad_of_4_&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok - then the girl, not the pregnant one ran real fastily. The girl with the dark hair, not the blonde one that got died, ran toward the beach.When the girl, not the one that can speak English but didn't tell her husband, got at the beach, she stopped running fastily. There he was, her man, not the doctor guy, the other one.Her man, the guy that took everybody's stuff, was nekked as a jay bird but she couldn't see the good stuff a cause he was in the water about yay high.He, the one with the long hair, turned and looked at her and said, " Ay - Ow's yore Mom 'n 'em."She smiled exposing the peel of a sliced orange that she had been given by the bald guy that couldn't walk but now he can. He, the one that killed the shrimp guy, laughed.She, the one that blowed up her Daddy, spit out the peel and said, "I don't want to talk about my Mom 'n 'em. You're needed back at the hatch thingy. The Korean guy that can't speak English and the large guy that says "Dude" need to talk to you."He, the one that that the Iraqui guy tortured, said, "Tell Chewy and Dhudda, that I'll be right there."She, the one that the robbed the bank, said, "OK, and uh...you might want some sunscreen back there."To be continued.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 08 2005 @ 10:32 AM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=trolltrolltrolltroll1"&gt;trolltrolltrolltroll1&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The snow started up again and snowed off and on all day as the donkeys played. Even Bella and Annie got into the spirit and played in the snow. All four donkeys had a wonderful time making snow donkeys, slideing down the hill, rolling around in the white fluffy stuff and giggling at Bogie. Bogie decided he was he-man of the pasture snow hill. He would push everyone off the hill that tryed to concour his domain. Thru all the fun and frollick the donkeys had one friend wasn't feeling so good. Joseph couldn't quite get comfortable in his bed. He tossed and turned to no avail. His breathing became raspy and he couldn't call out for help from his friends. Joseph knew his time was limited, the life span of a butterfly is only so long. He tried to remain on this earth long enough to say thank you and good bye to his family. But as the donkeys played, Joseph's guarding angel took his wing and gently guided him towards the bright lite. She kissed his cheek and handed him over to a life ever lasting in heaven. As Joseph approched the gates of heaven his mother and father and siblings were there to welcome him in. Joseph was in awe at how beautiful heaven was. Crystal clear water falls, pastures green as the first day of spring and flowers blooming everywhere. All of his relatives were there and he felt at peace. Joseph traded in his earthly wings for ones made of gold. His antenias became halos and he was able to look thru the clouds at the donkeys. He knew that if he could watch over them from Heaven, everything was going to be just fine. The donkeys raced back into the barn, Bogie and Fannie went in search of Joseph only to find him gone. In Joseph's place was a single wing of many colors. The children were confused and took it to Bella to ask where Joseph went. Bella took one look at the beautiful wing and knew that Joseph's time on earth has ended. She gently asked the children to sit down and she proceeded to tell them that Joseph has passed on. He is in heaven now with his family and sitting at God's table eating the finest nector from the most beautiful flowers. He is happy and at peace now.Bogie couldn't believe his ears. How could Joseph leave without telling them good bye? He couldn't hide the tears that ran down his face and ran out of the barn before anyone tried to comfort him. Bogie ran to the opposite side of the pasture and cryed. His tears froze on his cheeks, but he didn't care. His friend was gone and nothing in the world could bring him back. What started out as such a wonderful day turned into the worse day of Bogies life. Fannie cried in Annies arms and Bella stroked her back comforting her. They knew that Bogie needed to be alone with his emotions so they didn't try to bother him just yet. In time Bogie will come back and they can plan a memorial for Joseph. Until that time all they could do is comfort each other and talk about all the joy Joseph brought to their lives in the short time he was there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 08 2005 @ 11:30 AM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=NoNicksinExile"&gt;NoNicksinExile&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I’m hungry.” Said Hurley looking at Jack in hunger. “Oh, maybe you can get some boar from the caves.” Said Jack not looking at hurley. “No, we’re out of boar cause Locke won’t get anymore.” Said Hurley back to Jack the hunger getting even more in his stomache. “Oh that’s too bad” said jack. Jack was a Dr, and because of his being a Dr people were always asking him for advice. Jack didn’t like it too much because he didn’t like to give advice. Unless it was medical advice, or people weren’t actually asking him for his advice. Hurley decided to go to the beach because he wanted to talk to Rose, who was probably there doing laundry like she normaly did. He wan’t sure why she didn’t use the crazy space age anachronistic washer and dryer set in the hatch but he didn’t care much. He was just getting more hungrier with each step which were many because it was a long way to the beach from the hatch. By the time hurley got to the beach he was sweating a lot. He didn’t see Rose. Maybe she was out somewhere walking with Bernard. Bernard was Roses’ husband who just came back from the other side of the island that was white. (Her husband not the island) No one saw that coming, except maybe Ana Lucia that new chick who was with Bernard. No one liked her much. “hello Hurley.” Said the chinese, from behind him who everyone hated because he was mean to his wife. He wasn’t so mean anymore though. “What? I thought you spoke Chinese?” said Hurley quickly turning to face Jin. “Korean actually. But you’re dreaming.” “oh” said Hurley quietly as he woke up in the hatch. “What?” asked locke who was on the couch next tom him. “Nothing.” Said Hurley. What a strange dream. “If your hungry there’s boar on the table out there.” Said locke, which he thought was really ironic.The End.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 08 2005 @ 11:35 AM&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=LIONARTist"&gt;LIONARTist&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll give you excellent marks for the heavy use of run-on sentences and the almost complete absence of mental imagery. Very bad indeed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 08 2005 @ 11:50 AM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=MeSlapMeThrowRock"&gt;MeSlapMeThrowRock&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ROTFLMAO!! First chance today to sign on and this is what greets me! This stuff is SO BAD.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Postedby: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=LIONARTist"&gt;LIONARTist&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: Dec 08 @ 12:27 PM&lt;br /&gt;by: &lt;a href="http://forums.go.com/abc/primetime/lost/messages?username=LIONARTist"&gt;LIONARTist&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Capter 2: The Reckoning part 2The huge, yet somehow gentle man with vengeance in his heart, pulled Jack to him, and Kate as well. "You must be very careful", the big guy said. "She has the sickness".Jack was in shock and dismay. So much so, that he lost his grip on Kate and she fell all the way down and hit some big rocks, thus killing her through blunt-force trauma of the worst variety."It's just as well. She was dead to you and me already" said the huge funnily dressed man, who Jack would later find out was named Mr. JOOP. Jack quickly forgot about Kate's unseemly death, even though she was the love of his life."What do you mean by saying, THE SICKNESS?"&lt;em&gt;Find out what Mr. JOOP MEANS IN CHAPTER 3 - THE RECKONING PART 3.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2712872556419020419-9176162468492375469?l=thelosthomeforbadfiction.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thelosthomeforbadfiction.blogspot.com/feeds/9176162468492375469/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2712872556419020419&amp;postID=9176162468492375469' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2712872556419020419/posts/default/9176162468492375469'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2712872556419020419/posts/default/9176162468492375469'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thelosthomeforbadfiction.blogspot.com/2006/12/in-beginning-lionartist-gets-big-idea.html' title='In the Beginning: LIONARTist gets a big idea.'/><author><name>back_gammon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14451548657665179875</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://i18.tinypic.com/2preg6f.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
