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Welcome to lets make a story.   A place where you, the visitor, can make something wonderful and beautiful.  Screw that, you can make it scary, ugly, and dirty too if you want.  Here is the premise.  I will write the first five sentences to a story.  Then each week you should submit what you think the next five to ten sentences should be.  I will then choose the one I like the best, and add it to the story.  Then we do it all over again, until we get a nice and long story that dosen't make any sense.  Sound good?  It better because without your participation this story will go no where fast, or even worse I will pretend to be each of you and write terrible terrible story additions.

The Story (Make a real title later.)
 
  It was a hot day, but not any more so than it had been in the previous.  It was too hot to move, to think, or do anything for that matter. Life had become so boring in the recent months.  I had no idea what would happen.  Nothing could prepare me for what was ahead, and I mean nothing.
The museum of art and artifact stood before me. The bronze statue of the curator eyed me as I irreverantly skipped toward the door. I entered through the front, something that is becoming uncommon nowadays, to a huge pile of bones...They were remodeling? No.
"What's going on," I said.
The fifty people mulling around the room all faced me at once, and in unison said: "nothing, muffin." Muffin?
Wasn't that what my girlfriend used to call me? "Muffin? Muffin?" I rubbed my eyes and was in my bedroom, morning, the first day of summer. My girlfriend peering over me from above, maroon tank top. And then the explosion
of something large and plastic crashing down boomed from the kitchen. It couldnt have been larger than a blender. I sat up to greet her. She was radiant in the morning, like taking a deep breath while waking up and your eyes are still closed; nothing but comfort and puffy sheets. She gave you that sort of feeling. Her mussed hair was illuminated at its borders from the morning light beaming in; she appeared angelic at most, at the minimum serene. Right now she was both.
"Morning." I'd slept well, even my stubble felt refreshed. Jennifer peered at me with puppy dog brown eyes. We'd been together for a little over a year now. She'd been staying over nearly as long, i remember her telling me the first morning after, "I like it here, it feels.....like home" Today was Saturday, i had a lot planned out, first, I was going to go eat breakfast consisting of bacon, eggs, and some more bacon. I love bacon. One time when I was young I ran away from home and was forced to be without bacon. It was shortly after my father's death and I had to survive soley on bugs, but life was great, I lived without a care...wait...no my mistake that was the Lion King. My dad's a drunk who claims he does only two things: masturbate and watch Food Network...anyhow...today was supposed to be a great day. I was going to go to the zoo
and enjoy my day off. Jen wasn't coming, she was meeting an old high school friend who was in the city for a week. I was going to stay away from the monkey cages, too familiar. Similar to my father they spent all day masturbating and watched the food network from the concession stalls behind the fences, seeing but unable to have. Monkeys still had the upside of throwing crap: my father channeled that long ago subdued habit into raising me. Too familiar.  Yet unfamiliar. Monkeys, just like the great apes had always puzzled me. They were the descendants of ouor common ancestors, some missing link, an androgenous creature, an amalgam of ape and human parts likely, evolved from the original mammals, rodents, but stronger, larger and vastly more intelligent. When was it that beasts began to think? To speak? Did we look like humans before we sounded like humans, or sound like humans before we looked like humans? Scientists have done studies on chimps, our closest living relatives. Apparently, their screaches are actually a language. When chimps were locked in a booth and prompted to identify an object on a computer screen from another chimp's hollars, it invariably choose the proper object. The more interesting fact was that they all seemed to share a common language, even the apes taken from different regions had the same "words." Fascinating. One time I saw this chimp in a Zoo in St. Louis who had no hair. It looked like an old man. It started eating its own excrement, a strange habit among the apes. My father was a scientist, who was actually impotent. Never actually having the benefit of masturbation, he simply massaged his groin. My mother was impregnated through artificial insemination, it's a strange story really...
 
 
 

Name
Date
Story Addition
  

Story Contributors:
Justin Byrne (orange)
Martin Francisco (green)
Dwight Kim (blue)

HERE IS THE STORY WITH CLEAR COLOR DIVISIONS SO ONE CAN SEE WHO WROTE EACH SECTION.
The Story (Make a real title later.)
 
  It was a hot day, but not any more so than it had been in the previous.  It was too hot to move, to think, or do anything for that matter. Life had become so boring in the recent months.  I had no idea what would happen.  Nothing could prepare me for what was ahead, and I mean nothing.
The museum of art and artifact stood before me. The bronze statue of the curator eyed me as I irreverantly skipped toward the door. I entered through the front, something that is becoming uncommon nowadays, to a huge pile of bones...They were remodeling? No.
"What's going on," I said.
The fifty people mulling around the room all faced me at once, and in unison said: "nothing, muffin." Muffin?
Wasn't that what my girlfriend used to call me? "Muffin? Muffin?" I rubbed my eyes and was in my bedroom, morning, the first day of summer. My girlfriend peering over me from above, maroon tank top. And then the explosion
of something large and plastic crashing down boomed from the kitchen. It couldnt have been larger than a blender. I sat up to greet her. She was radiant in the morning, like taking a deep breath while waking up and your eyes are still closed; nothing but comfort and puffy sheets. She gave you that sort of feeling. Her mussed hair was illuminated at its borders from the morning light beaming in; she appeared angelic at most, at the minimum serene. Right now she was both.
"Morning." I'd slept well, even my stubble felt refreshed.  Jennifer peered at me with puppy dog brown eyes. We'd been together for a little over a year now. She'd been staying over nearly as long, i remember her telling me the first morning after, "I like it here, it feels.....like home" Today was Saturday, i had a lot planned out,
first, I was going to go eat breakfast consisting of bacon, eggs, and some more bacon. I love bacon. One time when I was young I ran away from home and was forced to be without bacon. It was shortly after my father's death and I had to survive soley on bugs, but life was great, I lived without a care...wait...no my mistake that was the Lion King. My dad's a drunk who claims he does only two things: masturbate and watch Food Network...anyhow...today was supposed to be a great day. I was going to go to the zoo and enjoy my day off. Jen wasn't coming, she was meeting an old high school friend who was in the city for a week. I was going to stay away from the monkey cages, too familiar. Similar to my father they spent all day masturbating and watched the food network from the concession stalls behind the fences, seeing but unable to have. Monkeys still had the upside of throwing crap: my father channeled that long ago subdued habit into raising me. Too familiar.  Yet unfamiliar. Monkeys, just like the great apes had always puzzled me. They were the descendants of ouor common ancestors, some missing link, an androgenous creature, an amalgam of ape and human parts likely, evolved from the original mammals, rodents, but stronger, larger and vastly more intelligent. When was it that beasts began to think? To speak? Did we look like humans before we sounded like humans, or sound like humans before we looked like humans? Scientists have done studies on chimps, our closest living relatives. Apparently, their screaches are actually a language. When chimps were locked in a booth and prompted to identify an object on a computer screen from another chimp's hollars, it invariably choose the proper object. The more interesting fact was that they all seemed to share a common language, even the apes taken from different regions had the same "words." Fascinating. One time I saw this chimp in a Zoo in St. Louis who had no hair. It loo!
ked like an old man. It started eating its own excrement, a strange habit among the apes. My father was a scientist, who was actually impotent. Never actually having the benefit of masturbation, he simply massaged his groin. My mother was impregnated through artificial insemination, it's a strange story really...
 

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