Another Scrabble Story

They're fun! (I can only hope that they're being enjoyed by the P@riots as well.)

This one was one that Steph and I composed together, which is the best way to do Scrabble Stories, in my opinion. Steph would lay down her tiles, and then I would write the first sentence (using the word(s) she created) then give her the paper while I played my turn.

My ultimate Scrabble Story dream is to have four players, each of us having a story in front of us, passing it around from person to person. So you wouldn't get back to the story you started until three other people had had a go at it. It would take hours to play, but it would no doubt result in some hilarious stories. Some day when the girls are old enough that they don't need constant supervision, I'm totally going to have some friends over so we can spend a night doing that. Let me know if any of you are interested. :)

Okay. So, since there were two authors for this story, I think I'll have to indicate in some way what parts are mine, and what parts are Steph's. I think I'll change the color. Hopefully it won't be too painful on the eyes.

This story was, according to the page, originally written on 12/16/98. I started...


It was Christmas day of 2000. I awoke early and raced to the living room. I saw only one package, covered with beautiful wrapping paper, ribbons, and bows. And for some reason there were orange rinds littering the floor. "Hmm.." I thought, "Orange rinds, banana peels, and only one gift... my god, we've been visited by the evil twin of Santa Claus!" That damn Sindy Claus just drove in here like she owned the place, took all our presents, left her garbage all over the floor, and I can just bet what's in that box! Expecting an ear-shattering BOOM, I gingerly tugged at the string tied to the package...
Seeing that being gentle wasn't getting me anywhere, I decided to get my hatchet from the garage and I axed my way into the package. Imagine my disappointment (and sore arms) when I discovered that directly underneath the wrapping paper was a cement block. But what was inside that? I headed down to Home Base to purchase some dynamite... When I got there I discovered a sign on the door that read, "Closed today at 12pm", and there were only fifteen minutes left in the forenoon!
I hurriedly ran through the aisles picking up the necessary equipment. When I got to the cashier, he was rather miserable. And quite vocal about it. "Man, I always get the crappy shifts," he says. "I have to work Christmas, New Years, Groundhog's Day. I never get the holidays off." I felt kinda bad, so I invited him to return home with me to open the mysterious box. He looked me in the eye and simply said, "No." I am normally a very calm and collected person but when he said that to me, refused my generous offer of hospitality, I suddenly and quite unexpectedly went into a craze. "What do you mean NO?!?" I screamed as I pulled the poor man toward me by the straps of his orange apron. Part of me was wondering what the hell I was doing (Did it have something to do with the mysterious package?)
"Look, sir or madam, I just work here. If you want a manager, press one now. If you want a withdrawal, por favor... That will be $10.95... I am Joe... welcome to Home Baaaaase." With that, the employee died! Or appeared to. Sparks began to fly from his neck and a whirring sound emanated from within him (or should I say 'it'?). I pushed the robotic employee away from me in a state of terror and confusion and watched as it suddenly burst into flames. "Hmm..." I thought, "Robotic Home Base employees, stores closing at noon... seems I've stumbled onto a larger conspiracy than I had first thought."
I sighed and lit a cigarette from the box in my shirt pocket. It's my only vice.
Abruptly, another "employee" appeared. She shook a disapproving finger at me and said, "No smoking allowed. Please step outside. Seeing this cyborg as my only opportunity for answers, I asked her, "What's going on here? Who are you? Who do you really work for?"
The female cashier stopped and I thought I had caused another meltdown. But then she sighed and said, "We work for S.N.A.R.E. Find them, and they'll answer all your questions. Unless they kill you first."
"Snare? What's that?"
"I've said too much. Take your dynamite and go home and open the block in your living room."
I was shocked. "How do you know about that?"
Before I could get more answers, she ushered me out the doors and locked them behind me.
Walking back down the street toward my house, I felt as if I was losing my mind. What would I find in the big package of cement? Was S.N.A.R.E. waiting at my house ready to kill me as soon as I walked in the door? Were my parents and sister ever going to wake up this strange and eventful Christmas morning or would they sleep until late afternoon?
Unfortunately it looked like I may never find out the answers to these questions because just ahead I saw a plume of smoke rising to the sky and as I got closer I discovered that underneath it was a huge fire and inside that was my house. Oh my poor dog, Rusty!!
Screaming, I ran the rest of the way toward my house. I was stopped by a large crowd of onlookers. And a strange crowd they were. They were all dressed like they had recently been swimming, and several of them were roasting marshmallows in the remains of my abode. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. I was about to confront these rude people when a thought occurred to me - maybe these people are from S.N.A.R.E.
I put my theory to test. "A ...um... nifty fire, huh?" I asked in what I was hoping passed for a casual tone.
The marshmallow-roasters collectively turned and looked at me. "One of them spoke, "You know about the box, don't you?"
I grabbed the arm of the nearest marshmallow loving swimmer and pulled her aside. "Let's have a little chat, shall we?" I said in a low and caustic tone. We walked into the bushes of my neighbor, Jack. I was about to ask her what was going on when I noticed something. I could see my neighbor Jack through his living room window and he was standing in front of a very large and handsomely wrapped package amid what looked like orange rinds and banana peels.
"Stay here. I'll be right back."
"Sure. I'll just tidy up Jack's rose garden," the woman replied cheerfully.
If I had had time, that statement would've bothered me. But I had to save Jack's life. Or at least warn him about ...something weird.
I rang Jack's doorbell in a dramatic fashion and after a while the door opened. It was Jack's little girl, Cynthia. She looked at me ponderously for a moment before I said, "Can you get your daddy, please?"
She smiled (knowingly? Or was I just paranoid?) and went to retrieve her father.
While she was absent a little boy came to the door. "Who are you?" I asked him.
He was a cute little thing, probably five or six years old. He said nothing but just then Jack came to the door. "This is Brian. Julia and I just got through adopting him. He's our best Christmas present." Jack smiled and ruffled the boy's hair. Brian just continued to look up at me, smiling. "Do you happen to know what's going on?" Jack asked me, but I couldn't answer because I couldn't tear my eyes away from the boy's gaze. He was so... so... cute.
Absentmindedly, I finally responded, "I woke up, found a huge gift, and stumbled onto some conspiracy with a group called S.N.A.R.E. Oh, and my house burned down."
Jack pulled Brian away from me as though I'd gone crazy. "Look," he said, "it's Christmas, and I'd love to talk crazy-talk with you, but I've got to clip my toe nails, so, um... get lost, will you?" The door was then slammed in my face.
I rang he doorbell again. "You again," said Jack when he saw me. "Luckily this time I thought to equip myself." He pulled a rifle from behind his back and pointed it at my face. "Yelp!" said I, and he pulled the trigger.
Luckily, it was merely a toy rifle that one of his kids had received for the holiday. Aside from an accelerated heart beat, I was unharmed. Jack then whispered, "Pretend I killed you. Fall down." I was confused for just a second, then did as told. Jack dragged my "corpse" into his living room and told me, "Stay down. They're still watching. As long as they think you're dead, we're okay. I'm gonna sneak you into my jeep in the garage so we can get the hell out of here."


That's the bad thing about Scrabble stories. They don't really ever end well. I guess once you know the last word is going to be played, you should start trying to wrap it up so you don't end up with unfinished stories. But, still, this one was a pretty good one. There's another one about a car accident and alien cows (I think) that Steph and I composed together that is really funny too. I'll have to see if I can track that one down.