Stories, pleasegreenspun.com : LUSENET : FRL friends : One Thread
Since I'm not a story teller, is it possible for me to persuade one of those wonderful story-telling types who hang out here to write a story for me? I'll even "help" with the plot line (she said hopefully).
-- Tricia the Canuck (firstname.lastname@example.org), July 27, 2002
For example, you could start with finding out what DEiteR is up to amongst the aliens. Or whatever became of Pat's siblings. Or what that mule is doing now....
-- Tricia the Canuck (email@example.com), July 27, 2002.
Dear and Sweet Princess, I'll try and think of something!!
-- (FRLian@story.teller), July 27, 2002.
Ronald Brooks had two jobs; he was a full-time year-round detective for a small Northern New Jersey lake community, as well as a part- time member of the government’s top-secret Advanced Defense Research Organization (ADRO). His boss---the local Police Chief---had an understanding with the folks at ADRO that Brooks could be ‘borrowed’ periodically for ‘special assignments’. The Chief didn’t mind at all, and knew enough not to ask any questions. The fact that his police department would sometimes receive large ‘anonymous donations’ wasn’t lost on anyone, especially him.
So it was that about six weeks ago, Brooks was notified that he was needed for a ‘few weeks’ on some special assignment. Julie Eden, his co-worker at ADRO, had been pulling a tour in the ‘shadow government’ when all of a sudden ADRO needed her back at the Pentagon due to a national emergency. Of all the ADRO staff, only Julie and Brooks were qualified for these special ‘shadow’ assignments. So when Julie got pulled off her tour about a month early, it was Brooks that got stuck with finishing her duty. Not that he really minded. He thought the world of Julie; had, in fact, recruited her into ADRO.
Brooks woke up to low clouds and a cool temperature, especially considering that it was the last week of July. Just yesterday he had finished Julie’s ‘shadow government’ tour, and now he was just really glad to be out among the living again, instead of deep underground in an ‘undisclosed location’.
His first thought upon waking was that it felt damn good to be in his own bed---and in his own home. His second thought was that Julie had promised to thank him for finishing her tour by taking him out to dinner his first day back in civilization. That meant tonight.
Detective Brooks smiled to himself as he got out of bed. He called Julie yesterday and everything was arranged. Tonight, at about seven o’clock, he’d take the short drive to the other side of town where Julie lived. Their destination was a local restaurant in the next town over. Brooks couldn’t wait; real food for a change, and good company too.
He headed for the shower, singing some familiar jingle that had just come into his head for some reason. After washing up and getting dressed, he went into the kitchen and looked for something to eat. Suddenly he realized that there probably was nothing to eat, since he hadn’t gone grocery shopping yet. He opened a cabinet half- heartedly, then smiled as he saw there was something to munch on after all; Poopie Puffs. This is what he ate for breakfast every morning while on ‘shadow’ duty! How ironic, that it would be the only thing here in his cabinet! He reached for the delicious chocolate cereal and almost burst out laughing.
-- (FRLian@story.teller), July 27, 2002.
Hurrah!!!! A story! (((FRLian Story Teller!))) Thanks sweet Prince :-)
-- Tricia the Canuck (firstname.lastname@example.org), July 28, 2002.
Tricia: As usual I don’t have a clue what comes next (but that never stopped me before ;-) If you want, this story can be really silly (like the last one), or more serious/suspenseful (as with some of the earlier stories)--- or, maybe something completely different this time? Just let me know!
-- (FRLian@story.teller), July 28, 2002.
Anything that tickles your fancy, o master storyteller! Fiction would be good ;-)
-- Tricia the Canuck (email@example.com), July 28, 2002.
I vote for suspense! Nudge, nudge! Move over Tricia, we're in for a ride!! YAY!!!
-- Aunt Bee (Aunt__Bee@hotmail.com), July 28, 2002.
Brooks pulled his car into Julie’s driveway and killed the engine. He looked at his watch; seven o’clock sharp---right on time. He got out of the car and walked up to the door. Before even getting there, he heard barking. It was Pat, Julie’s golden retriever.
For a second the detective had a flood of memories about all of the adventures that he and Julie and Pat had had over the last two years. Outside of his boss at ADRO, Helen Bee Mebs, only a handful of people knew the wild and crazy and totally unbelievable history of this very special pooch.
The memories went quickly through his mind; how Pat had started off life as an androgynous beaver, and when, after an unfortunate incident with a local hunter who had almost killed Pat, Aliens captured the almost-dead beaver and transplanted it’s brain into the body of a golden retriever puppy to become Julie’s special companion. Brooks recalled the various times that Pat communicated with Julie telepathically. The dog could even answer yes/no questions by barking either once or twice. Julie and Pat had proven to be a tremendous asset to National Security and ADRO. To say that he had grown fond of them both would be an understatement.
But now, Pat was barking more than just once or twice. And there was something else in the pooch’s voice that Brooks couldn’t place. Something that he had never heard in Pat’s bark before---a tone that almost sounded like a whining---a sound of worry?
Brooks got to the front door and rang the bell. Pat barked all the louder. Surely Julie was expecting him and heard Pat signaling his arrival. A long minute passed. Pat continued his barking.
Reflexively, Brooks rang the bell again and heard it echoing throughout the small house. Where the hell is Julie? He waited a bit more. Only Pat’s barking could be heard.
Another minute passed. Brooks hadn’t realized it but he was holding his breath. Something’s wrong! He walked around the side of the house and looked in the window. There, not three feet away, was Pat. The dog was shaking---obviously afraid----and all alone. He looked past the dog and into the room as best he could. Nothing.
He turned and looked around outside, then walked all around the grounds---searching. Still nothing; no sign of Julie. He went to the detached garage. It was unlocked. Julie’s car was there. He went inside and found that the engine was cold. He looked around. Julie wasn’t there.
He had come expecting just to take Julie out for a nice dinner but instead was confronted with a mystery. Julie and Pat were inseparable. There was no way that she would leave Pat alone like this. Not willingly. Brooks frowned at the thought.
But he wasn’t a detective for nothing. He intended to get to the bottom of this, and soon. He left the garage and cautiously walked back towards the house.
-- (FRLian@suspense.writer), July 28, 2002.
-- helen (firstname.lastname@example.org), July 29, 2002.
This story, as with all of the author's previous related stories, is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used in a fictitious way. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
-- Just a reminder (FRLian@fiction.writer), July 29, 2002.
Helen Bee Mebs, Director of the super-secret Advanced Defense Research Organization, never tired of looking out of her E-Ring Pentagon office at the Potomac River rolling by. After a few seconds of idle daydreaming, she went back to her desk and re-read the executive summary of events. No less than five Action Messages had been issued by NORAD in the last two days. Something big was going on!
All of the Action Messages were 'scrambles' related to somebody---or something--- violating the sovereign airspace of the continental United States. She looked over at her computer monitor and glanced at it again.
It was an Action Message from NORAD to the Air National Command Center to scramble the 409th squadron out of McGuire Air Force Base in New Jersey. The squad was vectored to the unidentified bogey, a blue-glowing ball of light, where they made visual contact, chased the object, and tried to get the warble tone that meant their bird’s computer had a firing-solution and could blast whatever it was the hell out of our sky. Authorization had already been obtained. They were flying free with ‘weapons hot’.
But none of the squadron ever got to fire a shot. The most they were able to do was chase the 'lightballs' around a bit. As soon as they got anywhere close to a lock for firing the object would just be gone- --it simply disappeared---seemingly into thin air. For the fifth time in two days the squadron returned to base frustrated; with all of their weapons and nothing but questions. Everything was classified above top secret---they couldn’t even talk about it.
But other people were talking about it.
Action Messages from NORAD aren’t easily forgotten and they’re never ignored. The latest incidents were included in the President’s Morning Brief and Threat Matrix.
So it was that Helen had received a call once again from the Oval Office, requesting that ADRO get involved---especially since it was ADRO who the President had relied on in the recent past.
Helen Bee Mebs had no intention of letting her President or Country down. She knew who it was that could help her most right now. She picked up her Secure Telephone Unit and dialed. An instant later, a phone in a house in Northern New Jersey began ringing---insistently.
-- (FRLian@story.teller), July 29, 2002.
YAYYY-more action, more action!! Good job story teller!! Should I go make fudge to pass to the audience?
-- Aunt Bee (Aunt__Bee@hotmail.com), July 29, 2002.
Yes, please, Aunt Bee!
Great story so far, I'm not budging 'til it's all done :-)
-- The FRLian Princess (Loves@chocolate.yummmm), July 29, 2002.
Brooks walked from the garage to the back of the house where he saw that Pat was waiting, tail wagging, on the other side of the door. The dog had stopped barking. The detective grunted. The front door was locked, but maybe this back door wasn’t. He walked up the steps, grabbed the knob, and turned it.
The door swung away and opened. Pat leaped with joy towards him as the detective bent down to pet the cute pooch.
“Well, Pat, now where’s Julie; that’s what I want to know.” He looked at the pooch affectionately. Pat looked back at him and growled playfully. It was then that Brooks remembered that Pat could answer questions, but only if they were with a ‘yes’ or ‘no’. He decided to give it a try.
“Pat, I was supposed to pick Julie up now, but she’s not here, is she?.”
“One woof, that meant ‘yes’.
“Ok, so if she’s not here then where is she?
”Pat looked at the Detective and growled with displeasure.
“Sorry, Pat. Do you know where Julie is?”
“Good. Now we’re getting somewhere. Is she in any danger?”
“No? Well, thank God for that! But then why isn’t she here? And why would she leave you alone? Wait---I, I think I know. She had to go unexpectedly, didn’t she?"
“But I wonder why she left you here alone--- Oh! Wait a minute. She left you here for me to find, so you could bring me to her?”
Pat stood up and let out one single very loud “WOOF!”
Brooks laughed. “Then we better go find her and see what this is all about. Can you help me find her Pat?”
“Woof.” Pat went to the door, looked expectantly at Brooks, then looked at the door and barked. Brooks took the hint and opened the door.
Pat ran out of the house and disappeared around the side. Brooks followed and saw Pat waiting patiently by the passenger seat of his car. Evidently, they were going to go for a ride. They both got into the car and went to the end of Julie’s driveway. “OK, Pat, which way? Right turn towards town?”
“Then the only other choice is a left turn, towards the Lake.
And just as Brooks made the turn, the phone in Julie’s house started ringing. But there wasn’t anyone there to pick it up. On the other end of the line, Helen Bee Mebs decided to let it ring a few more times---
-- (FRLian@story.teller), July 30, 2002.
WARNING: The FRLian writer would like to warn the audience (all three of youz guyz) that after the trip with the geese down memory lane this morning he is feeling especially silly and his writing will most likely reflect a new low in ridiculousness to soon follow.
-- (FRLian@story.teller), July 30, 2002.
Brooks knew where Pat was leading him as soon as they turned down the Lake Road, which ended in a small dead-end parking lot. They got out and Pat started heading off towards the beaver’s lodge.
Brooks followed, looking at the sky. This time of year it was still light out, and would be for another half-hour or so.
While the detective followed Pat, he remembered something that Julie-- -or was it Helen?--- had told him; Pat had three siblings. Two sisters, Eeny and Meeny, and a brother, Miney. In the early Spring, Eeny and Miney went downstream and formed a new dam, while Meeny alone remained at the original lodge that all four used to live at. It was the original dam, and Meeny, that Pat was now headed to. Julie must be there for some reason, and waiting for him. But what the heck was she up to?
Brooks had tried Julie’s cell phone, but either she didn’t have it with her or it wasn’t turned on. He reminded himself for the hundredth time that Pat thought Julie was not in any danger. Just then, his own cell phone rang. He answered immediately, thinking it must be Julie after all.
Helen Bee Mebs was relieved to get Brooks, especially since she couldn’t locate Julie, and that was very unusual. “Look, I’m worried about these lights and what they are. So is our President and everyone who knows about these events. And I’m worried about Julie too! We need some answers, Brooks, and I’m depending on you.”
“Don’t worry, Helen . Pat is with me. We’re at Golden Lake. I’m following Pat to the beaver’s dam. Julie must be there. I’ll call you as soon as I find her and then we’ll take it from there.”
Helen hung up, satisfied, as detective Brooks followed Pat to the dam. Brooks would call her as soon as he found Julie, and he had never let her down. Little did she know that he wouldn’t call her right away. There would be a delay---
-- (FRLian@story.teller), July 30, 2002.
A story AND chocolate? It doesn't get any better than that! ;-)
-- Gayla- trying to eat all the chocolate before helen gets here (email@example.com days!), July 30, 2002.
Brooks rounded the last bend in the path and came out by the stream and beaver’s lodge, then stopped cold. He couldn’t believe his eyes, and actually shook his head as if to clear it!
There was Julie, sitting on a picnic blanket as calm as could be on the bank of the stream. She looked up at the Detective and smiled. “Well, it’s about time you got here!”
Pat wagged his tail and went over to sit next to her master. Julie hugged the pooch as Brooks slowly came out of his stupor and walked over to join the two of them.
Suddenly he felt upset, almost angry. Why had Julie done this? This wasn’t like her at all! And Helen was worried half to death with this new potential national security threat. For the first time he could ever remember, Brooks frowned at his friend. “Ok Julie, you mind tellin’ me what the heck is going on here?”
To his continued amazement, Julie just smiled gently, but didn’t answer. Instead, she put her hand on the empty part of the blanket, and motioned him with her eyes to sit next to her.
Now he was really confused! Not knowing what else to say or do, he went and sat next to her.
After he sat down, she opened her mouth again and spoke.
“You just made it, Brooks!”
Julie reached over to him and took his cell phone, which he still had in his hand. He began trying to ask something, but she stopped him by simply putting a finger to her lips in the universally understood gesture for ‘be quiet’. Then Julie turned his cell phone off! His mouth dropped open, but he was silent.
Julie looked sympathetically at her friend with an odd expression. “I’m sorry, but we can’t have any interruptions now. The show is about to begin!”
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Helen Bee Mebs looked up at the familiar sound. You have mail! She opened it and immediately saw that it was another damn Action Message; unidentified Bogies over Northern New Jersey, again. And, for the sixth time in three days, the intercept squadron was scrambled from McGuire A.F.B. to engage the ‘blue lightballs’.
Brooks should have reached Julie by now. What was keeping him? Did he find her yet? She punched in his cell phone number and waited for the familiar warble that indicated that the Secure Telephone Unit had indeed obtained a secure connection.
But the cell phone just rang----
-- save me some chocolate too please! (FRLian@show.startsoon), July 30, 2002.
By now, the sky was dark. As Julie, Brooks, and Pat sat on the blanket, there was a sudden strange feeling in the air---a change of some kind maybe---and then it happened.
The Alien ship appeared from out of nowhere and hovered directly over the stream. Suddenly, a brilliant spot light came down in a round white beam and illuminated a six-foot wide circle in the stream a few yards away from the beaver’s lodge.
Brooks looked at Julie, his concerns of just a few moments ago all but forgotten. Pat stood up on the blanket and wagged her tail. Together they watched as thousands of little objects started to drift down the beam of light and settle on the surface of the stream in a near-perfect circle.
Brooks wrinkled his brow. “What’s that stuff?”
Julie smiled and pulled a small box of something out of her handbag, giving it to Brooks as if in explanation.
Brooks took the bag and immediately recognized its contents.
Julie giggled. “The Poopie Puffs float and make a circle. If they get inside the circle, then it’s two points, outside is only one.”
Before Brooks could ask his next question a blue streak of light flew across the sky, darting this way and that. Then another lightball appeared. One lightball was blue, the other, orange. Both zigzagged around then darted towards them.
The blue one was just overhead when suddenly it made a beeline and crashed into the stream just outside the circle of Poopie Puffs. There was a loud splash, and a second later out came a beaver from the water where the splash just happened.
It was Meeny! The beaver swam out of the stream and watched as the Poopie Puffs once again floated to the top and somehow re-formed into a perfect circle, once again marking the edge of the beam of light from the ship.
Julie laughed. “Score one point for the Blue Team!”
Suddenly the orange lightball came hurtling down and engulfed Meeny. Then, with a crackle of electricity it went flying back into the air with the beaver inside it.
The blue lightball started chasing the orange one. This went on for almost a minute when suddenly the orange light ball smashed down into the stream within the circumference of the Poopie Puff circle.
Julie leapt to her feet with excitement. “Bullseye! Two points for the Orange Team!”
Brooks smiled. “This is fun!”
Now it was the Blue Team’s turn. As the Poopie Puff circle on top of the stream re-formed, the blue lightball came and picked up Meeny who was just coming out of the water again. Up they went for another round.
Brooks started laughing out loud. “So this is what these lightballs are all about. Wait’ll I tell Helen.”
Julie just smiled at her friend as they waited for the next ‘shot’.
“I’m sorry if you were worried, Brooks, but there was no way I could have explained this all to you. It’s something you just have to see with your own eyes. But it’s gotta beat just having dinner! Besides, it’s not every man that I invite to come and watch a game of Alien BEAVERBALL with me!”
Brooks laughed even harder as they watched the Blue lightball come hurtling down at the stream. Meeny hit the water just outside the circle.
“One point for the Blue Team. Looks like they tied it up. What a game!”
-- (firstname.lastname@example.org), July 30, 2002.
Beaverball? LOL! Poor Meeny is gonna need some Advil after being dunked over and over. If I was Meeny, I would eat the Poopie Puffs and put an end to the game. If anyone is going to be dunked repeatedly, it should be Alexander bin Lawless! ;-)
-- Gayla (email@example.com), July 30, 2002.
About an hour later, the game of BEAVERBALL was finally over. The orange team had won tonight. Brooks stood up and cleared his throat, then looked directly at Meeny, who seemed disappointed that the game was over.
“You suppose that the beaver is OK, Julie? Maybe we should take it to the vet, Gayla Gold. She looks ok, but I can’t help wondering if she really is ok---I mean, all of those dunks in the water and all---”
Julie chuckled. “Meeny’s just fine, Brooks. Pat taught them all how to climb the tree overhanging the stream and jump off into the water from pretty high up. Meeny always liked to jump into the water, and usually from a higher branch than any of the other beavers. Now that I think of it, that might have been what gave the Aliens the idea for the BEAVERBALL game in the first place. Now, don’t you worry at all, Meeny is just fine. Besides, the lightball dropped her down into the water from a much closer distance than she’s used to jumping from up in that big old tree!”
They all turned to go and noticed that Meeny was busy again---she began happily eating all of the Poopie Puffs in the water!
“See,” Julie said, “like I told you. She really is ok!”
Pat’s bark seemed to settle the issue and they all started walking towards the car. Julie and Pat usually just walked to her house from here, since it was only a mile or so away. But tonight, the three of them went back to the car and drove to her house instead. After pulling into the driveway and parking, they walked towards the house.
Suddenly, Brooks stopped. “Oh no. I forgot to call Helen!”
Julie laughed. “Don’t worry, once you explain things to her I think she’ll understand. But you better call her now!”
Julie smiled and turned to Brooks. “I’m hungry. How about that dinner I promised you?”
Brooks nodded happily. “Ok, but after all that’s happened, dinner is gonna be my treat. After all, it’s not everyday that a pretty young woman invites me to attend a game of Alien BEAVERBALL! I owe ya. And it’s absolutely amazing what can be done with those Poopie Puffs! Guess the Alien’s like chocolate as much as we do! ”
They both looked at Pat and laughed out loud.
-- (The@End.now), July 31, 2002.
E P I L O G
McGuire Air Force Base, New Jersey
Donald Polk (Hokee Pokee), flight leader of squadron 409, turned to J.R. King (Jerk), his wingman, and frowned.
“Hey Jerk, we’ve chased these damn things all over New Jersey now for three damn days and we still don’t know what the hell’s goin’ on. You got any ideas?”
Jerk looked thoughtful for a second before answering. “Not really, and if we don’t know, then I suppose nobody else does. It’s almost as if those light balls were playing a game or something, don’t ya think?”
Flight Leader Polk looked at his wingman and nodded. “Ya know, Jerk, that’s exactly what I was figurin’ too. But who’d ever believe it, ya know? And what kind of game are they playin’?”
“Jerk nodded. “Ya got me, Hokee Pokee. I’m only an Air Force fighter puke. Maybe one of the Intel weenies knows.”
At that they both laughed and finished stowing their gear, and as they did, each couldn’t help but wonder what the game was that they played earlier tonight.
Both men were smart enough to realize they would never find out the answer.
-- (Epilog@THE.END), July 31, 2002.
-- (Dr@Gold.is SO relieved!), July 31, 2002.
Waaay cool ending ! I'm still smiling!! Thankee oh great story teller!
(I'm poopie for poopie puffs!-LOL-just doesn't have quite the same ring as the original~!)
Dare I say ENCORE????
-- Aunt Bee (Aunt__Bee@hotmail.com), July 31, 2002.
LOL, Rob! Thanks for cheering me up - your story was great, as usual :-)
I second Aunt Bee... "Encore" (But it could be someone else's turn if Rob is busy).
-- Tricia teh Canuck (firstname.lastname@example.org), August 01, 2002.
Thank you for the story. I'm taking on a new job tomorrow and instead of driving myself crazy with nerves, I am sitting here having a good chuckle about "poopie puffs". Cheers.
-- Carol (email@example.com), August 01, 2002.
Thanks all, I'm glad that it cheered you up :-) Your feedback and remarks always make the stories worth writing for me.
Tricia: I have some time now (for a few weeks still), so for an encore maybe we can follow your original suggestion about the siblings. This story checked in on Meeny, so I guess the next sequel can be about how Eeny and Miney are doing. Want it on this thread or a new one? Let me know.
Looks like I scared poor Helen off with that warning! poopie :-(
Aunt Bee: Just in case you missed it (about ten stories or so ago :- ), I used part of your name along with Helens' and mebs' (now, where has mebs been?) in coming up with the name "Helen Bee Mebs."
And Carol, thanks so much for posting since I didn't know you were even reading the story! Best of luck with your new job too.
-- Rob Michaels (firstname.lastname@example.org), August 01, 2002.
Start a new thread, ok?
I know we've kinda given up on staying on the "active" board, but we could start new threads every so often.
-- TRicia the Canuck (email@example.com), August 01, 2002.
A story is forming in the mule's mind ... however, it's really hard to type with hooves, and I haven't been available to take dictation. Will try really hard next week.
-- helen (firstname.lastname@example.org), August 02, 2002.
Hi Helen! How is ole Mike? He's been awfully quiet of late. We'd love to hear a story from him when you have time to transcribe. I'd even send a jar of freshly canned peaches for youse guys...just to give you a little incentive. (Of course, they might be peach mush by the time the Post Office finishes with them...)
-- LindaMc (email@example.com), August 03, 2002.
Helen my friend, I'll send a jar of jalapeno jelly! Give Mike's muzzle a stroke for me, willya? And throw in a couple of hugs for you too!
-- Aunt Bee (Aunt__Bee@hotmail.com), August 04, 2002.
Well, Helen, looks like your audience is already bribing, uh, I mean, encouraging your next literary effort, so I'll wait to start my next silly sequel 'till afterwards. That'll give me more time to think up a plot for the 'siblings story' anyway.
BTW, I'm sending you this ceremonial nut filled non-fiat rum-soaked fruitcake to go along with the the other goodies already in the mail from other admirers.
-- (firstname.lastname@example.org), August 04, 2002.
ACK! Rob you must begin the sibling story now! The mule simply isn't ready!
-- helen (email@example.com), August 04, 2002.