I have to write a short story for school..

thats one of my favorite songs

 

Hahaa...you said Bebop.

 

PETER FRAMPTON

I'll give you money
I'll give you lovin'
I'll give you everything
But heaven above

I'll give you all I have right now

I'll give you money
I'll give you lovin'
Everything

I'll give you kisses
Sweet as honey
I'll do you everything
'Cept make the sun shine (orsino2)

If I could change the world right now

good song

 

<------------------ loook! be-bop! meeeeeeeeeeeee!

 

Ahaha... fucking awesome, Gee-orge



Here's one you can use... You'd have to edit out the part where the turtle has sex with a chick... I was having an orgasm when I wrote that.





This one day there a was a turtle. Not just any turtle. A cool turtle. He even had shades. That’s cool. Right? Right. I think this turtle was named Richard, but it was hard to tell. He could’ve gone by Richie or even Bob, but Richard was my best guess. And Richard is what I called him. I met him walking down the road. My car had broken down. I was out of gas, and out of luck. The nearest gas station was miles away. I didn’t want to walk all the way there, leaving my car on a lonely highway, but what else could I do? I got about halfway there when I saw Richard and his shades. I’d never seen a turtle walk before. The truth is, turtles don’t walk. They strut. Yes, they strut. Seeing Richard strut made me believe disco music was playing in his head. Later I come to find my suspicions were right. Richard confessed he had the soundtrack to the movie "Saturday Night Fever" memorized and on constant replay in the CD player of his mind. But I was a long way away from being on friendly terms like that with him now. As soon as his beaty eyes saw me, he loathed me, my ma, my cat Gerald, and my brother Waldo. I could tell. He attempted to strut past me, that turtle nose of his in the air, but I stopped him.

The turtle stopped and stared at me. He looked me over. "Jack". He said back. That’s what he called me. Jack. Maybe that was my name. I didn’t know anymore. But if it was good enough for a talking turtle it was good enough for me.

"Could you spare a dime for me?" I asked. "I might see a payphone up along the way, and I need some change to contact my wife."

Richard laughed. "Your wife left you. Why would you call her?"

Damn. The turtle was right. He was good. How’d he know? I began to worry. Did it show?

"Well… come with me, then," I said.

Richard considered this. He didn’t like me, but he said he’d come along. Maybe he just wanted to wait until I fell alseep so he could pick my brains out through my nose. I’ll never know for sure.

Whatever the reason, we started walking. We saw a pretty lady. Richard shook her hand, and in under an hour, convinced her to shag him behind the bushes that were scattered along the side of this loney highway. Do you believe that? A turtle! And he gets lucky and I don’t. Oh well.

When Richard was done with her, we started walking again. We walked until nightfall, when we finally saw the gas station come into view. It was like a holy temple of fuel in front of our eyes. We both walked inside. I was planning to buy gas and bring it back to my car, but Richard told me to wait for a minute while he made a phone call.

I patiently stood by a rack of Twinkies. Twinkies. Now there’s an invention. I wonder who thought of those things. Must’ve been some kinda genius. I had an itching to take those Twinkies down and eat up every last one, but I didn’t do that. Richard came back before I could. He told me a limo was coming for us. Then he had to explain to me what a limo was.


Well, how was I supposed to know what it was? I had never seen a limo. Neither had my ma, my cat Gerald, or my brother Waldo. And we all got along just fine.

When this limo did come along, me and Richard hopped inside. We were talking. Laughing. Drinking some expensive fancy kind of alcohol. The kind that comes in a bottle instead of a can. I felt all high-class. Me and Richard sat in that limo for days drinking our wine. We swapped stories and that. I was telling Richard the turtle about my ex-wife when somebody opened the door. It was a tall, dark-haired man, who said, "Who are you talking to, Sir?".

I said, "My name ain’t Sir. It’s Jack."

 

åkë å þüñ©h öƒ ÂÐÐër壣 ×R åñÐ vvrî†ë vvhå†ëvër îŠ öñ ÿöür mîñÐ. :

 

Yeah, frampton was probably the best concert I saw last year... I got the live bootleg of it (from record now or whatever.. ) and I'm listening to it...

Well... he tied Crosby, Stills, and Nash, at least...

ugh, neil needs to tour with them this year.

 

I missed the concert of a lifetime. Screw you george ......

 

Well.. I saw Peter Frampton, Styx, and REO Speedwagon together on the same stage a few years back too...

 

You make me cry. ... oh, the sweet taste of tears.

 

Make it about a woman who becomes a cop but experiences inequality or w/e in the working environment, so she murders one of the best cops on the force, and makes it seem like the perfect crime so only she can solve it and crap, even though shes not assigned to the case, and so that she will be like thought of as this fantastic cop detectivish person girly and yeah... And then cops highly suspect her of doing it, but she blames it on the dude cop who was sexually harassing her, and claims he did it to get her out of the force cuz he didnt want a woman tainting law enforcement. Oh yeah, make sure she plants very little evidence to make it lead to him, but make her fellow workers suspect her of just planting it and shit.

I wanna be a cop when I grow up.
Or maybe I just watch too much law and order.


Oh yeah, and make sure the guy who was sexually harassing her gets convicted, and sentenced to life in prison or something like that.

 

!! I actually have to write a 4 page short story for school myself, I started one called "The Psychedelic Appointment" , It's sort of beginning to unravel itself. My character's name is Alan based on the song "Alan's Psychedelic breakfast" which I usually bask in when stoned. It's sort of a semi-bio of my own experiences.

... What i do for inspiration is I listen to a song, any song! one with character, a classical, a psychedelic, a trance and i write the story the song seems to be implying. Get one without lyrics because that'll exercise your own imagination. ANyhow I must write myself, goodluck! and maybe we can swap for support. Peace Peace Peace

 

Are you going to be a penis-cutter when you grow up too?

 

yes

 

we can dream D )