replacements

[zefrank]

here's an excerpt from Smoke, by Chris Avellone

you may replace, add to, or delete any part of it...a word, words, a sentence, but the first and last words should remain untouched and don't add anything to the front or back...


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It all started at Shoop's. The thing between Kyle and me. He (Kyle)
was busy taking aim with one of those slender tipped red darts, rocking
it back and forth in his hand, squinting real hard at the dartboard, so
you really couldn't tell if he was aiming or too drunk to see what he
was shooting at. He had the dart clutched kinda funny in his fingers,
too, like he was aiming for the floor, but it was this trick he did
with his hands to make the dart fly straighter. I'd almost forgotten
about it. I watched as the dart left his fingers and thunked into the
bullseye. "Not bad," I said, smirking a little. Kyle walked over to
retrieve the darts with that slow walk of his. I reached for the
pitcher again and refilled my glass. Behind me, chalk scraped on the
blackboard as Kyle tallied up his points. "Your turn," he said, in
that dead tone of voice he always uses. I could barely hear him. Even
without the background noise in Shoop's, Kyle had a real quiet voice.
He didn't look at me when he passed the darts off to me. He just pulled
a pack out of his shirt pocket and tapped out a cigarette, fishing in
his pants for his lighter with his other hand. "You smoke too much," I
said, trying to coax him out a little.

[CatchrNdRy]

It all started at Shoop's. The thing between Kyle and me. He (Kyle) was busy taking aim with one of those slender tipped red darts, rocking it back and forth in his hand, squinting real hard at the dartboard, so you really couldn't tell if he was aiming or too drunk to see what he was shooting at. He had the dart clutched kinda funny in his fingers, too, like he was aiming for the floor, but it was this trick he did with his hands to make the dart fly straighter. I'd almost forgotten about it. I watched as the dart left his fingers and thunked into the bartender's arm. "Not bad," I said, smirking a little. Kyle walked over to retrieve the darts with that slow walk of his. I reached for the pitcher again and refilled my glass. Behind me, chalk scraped on the blackboard as Kyle tallied up his points. "Your turn," he said, in that dead tone of voice he always uses. I could barely hear him. Even without the background noise in Shoop's, Kyle had a real quiet voice. He didn't look at me when he passed the darts off to me. He just pulled a pack out of his shirt pocket and tapped out a cigarette, fishing in his pants for his lighter with his other hand. "You eat too much," I said, trying to coax him out a little.
bartender's arm
eat

[trisherina]

It all started at Shoop's. The thing between Kyle and me. He (Kyle) was busy taking aim with one of those slender tipped red darts, rocking it back and forth in his hand, squinting real hard at the dartboard, so you really couldn't tell if he was aiming or too drunk to see what he was shooting at. He had the dart clutched kinda funny in his fingers, too, like he was aiming for the floor, but it was this trick he did with his hands to make the dart fly straighter. I'd almost forgotten about it. I watched as the dart left his fingers and thunked into the bartender's arm. "Not bad," I said, smirking a little. Kyle waltzed over to retrieve the darts with that slow waltz of his. I reached for the pitcher again and refilled my glass. Behind me, chalk scraped on the blackboard as Kyle tallied up his points. "Your turn," he said, in that dead tone of voice he always uses. I could barely hear him. Even without the background noise in Shoop's, Kyle had a real quiet voice. He didn't look at me when he passed the darts off to me. He just pulled a pack out of his shirt pocket and tapped out a cigarette, fishing in his pants for his lighter with his other hand. "You eat too much," I said, trying to coax him out a little.

waltzed, waltz

[dinzdale]

It all started at Shoop's. The thing between Prince Charles and me. He (Prince Charles) was busy taking aim with one of those slender tipped red darts, rocking it back and forth in his hand, squinting real hard at the dartboard, so you really couldn't tell if he was aiming or too drunk to see what he was shooting at. He had the dart clutched kinda funny in his fingers, too, like he was aiming for the floor, but it was this trick he did with his hands to make the dart fly straighter. I'd almost forgotten about it. I watched as the dart left his fingers and thunked into the bartender's arm. "Not bad," I said, smirking a little. Prince Charles waltzed over to retrieve the darts with that slow waltz of his. I reached for the pitcher again and refilled my glass. Behind me, chalk scraped on the blackboard as Prince Charles tallied up his points. "Your turn," he said, in that dead tone of voice he always uses. I could barely hear him. Even without the background noise in Shoop's, Prince Charles had a real quiet voice. He didn't look at me when he passed the darts off to me. He just pulled a pack out of his shirt pocket and tapped out a cigarette, fishing in his pants for his lighter with his other hand. "You eat too much," I said, trying to coax him out a little.
Kyle

[zefrank]

It all started at Shoop's. The thing between Prince Charles and me. He (Prince Charles) was busy smoking one of those slender tipped cigarettes, rocking it back and forth in his hand, squinting real hard at the television, so you really couldn't tell if he was watching or too drunk to see what he was looking at. He had a dart clutched kinda funny in his fingers, too, like he was aiming for the floor, but it was this trick he did with his hands to make the dart fly straighter. I'd almost forgotten about it. I watched as the dart left his fingers and thunked into the bartender's arm. "Not bad," I said, smirking a little. Prince Charles waltzed over to retrieve the darts with that slow waltz of his. I reached for the pitcher again and refilled my glass. Behind me, chalk scraped on the blackboard as Prince Charles tallied up his points. "Your turn," he said, in that dead tone of voice he always uses. I could barely hear him. Even without the background noise in Shoop's, Prince Charles had a real quiet voice. He didn't look at me when he passed the darts off to me. He just pulled a pack out of his shirt pocket and tapped out his cigarette, fishing in his pants for his lighter with his other hand. "You eat too much," I said, trying to coax him out a little.

3rd sentence (dart to cigarette)

[amanda]

It all started at Shoop's. The thing between Prince Charles and me. He (Prince Charles) was busy smoking one of those slender tipped cigarettes, rocking it back and forth in his hand, squinting real hard at the television, so you really couldn't tell if he was watching or too drunk to see what he was looking at. He had a dart clutched kinda funny in his fingers, too, like he was aiming for the floor, but it was this trick he did with his hands to make the dart fly straighter. I'd almost forgotten about it. I watched as the dart left his fingers and thunked into the bartender's arm. "Not bad," I said, smirking a little. Prince Charles waltzed over to retrieve the darts with that slow waltz of his. I reached for the waitress again and pinched her ass. Behind me, chalk scraped on the blackboard as Prince Charles tallied up his points. "Your turn," he said, in that dead tone of voice he always uses. I could barely hear him. Even without the background noise in Shoop's, Prince Charles had a real quiet voice. He didn't look at me when he passed the darts off to me. He just pulled a pack out of his shirt pocket and tapped out his cigarette, fishing in his pants for his lighter with his other hand. "You eat too much," I said, trying to coax him out a little.


pitcher, reached, glass

[dinzdale]

It all started at Shoop's. The thing between Prince Charles and me. He (Prince Charles) was busy smoking one of those slender tipped cigarettes, rocking it back and forth in his hand, squinting real hard at the television, so you really couldn't tell if he was watching or too drunk to see what he was looking at. He had a knife clutched kinda funny in his fingers, too, like he was aiming for the floor, but it was this trick he did with his hands to make the knife fly straighter. I'd almost forgotten about it. I watched as the knife left his fingers and thunked into the bartender's arm. "Not bad," I said, smirking a little. Prince Charles waltzed over to retrieve the knife with that slow waltz of his. I reached for the waitress again and pinched her ass. Behind me, chalk scraped on the blackboard as Prince Charles tallied up his points. "Your turn," he said, in that dead tone of voice he always uses. I could barely hear him. Even without the background noise in Shoop's, Prince Charles had a real quiet voice. He didn't look at me when he passed the knife off to me. He just pulled a pack out of his shirt pocket and tapped out his cigarette, fishing in his pants for his lighter with his other hand. "You eat too much," I said, trying to coax him out a little.


darts

[Stormyguy]

It all started at The Palace. The thing between Prince Charles and me. He (Prince Charles) was busy smoking one of those slender tipped cigarettes, rocking it back and forth in his hand, squinting real hard at the television, so you really couldn't tell if he was watching or too drunk to see what he was looking at. He had a knife clutched kinda funny in his fingers, too, like he was aiming for the floor, but it was this trick he did with his hands to make the knife fly straighter. I'd almost forgotten about it. I watched as the knife left his fingers and thunked into the bartender's arm. "Not bad," I said, smirking a little. Prince Charles waltzed over to retrieve the knife with that slow waltz of his. I reached for the waitress again and pinched her ass. Behind me, chalk scraped on the blackboard as Prince Charles tallied up his points. "Your turn," he said, in that dead tone of voice he always uses. I could barely hear him. Even without the background noise in The Palace, Prince Charles had a real quiet voice. He didn't look at me when he passed the knife off to me. He just pulled a pack out of his shirt pocket and tapped out his cigarette, fishing in his pants for his lighter with his other hand. "You eat too much," I said, trying to coax him out a little.

the palace

[zefrank]

It all started at The Palace. The thing between Prince Charles and me. He was busy smoking one of those slender tipped cigarettes, rocking it back and forth in his hand, squinting real hard at the court jester, so you really couldn't tell if he was watching or too drunk to see what he was looking at. He had a knife clutched kinda funny in his fingers, too, like he was aiming for the floor, but it was this trick he did with his hands to make the knife fly straighter. I'd almost forgotten about it. I watched as the knife left his fingers and thunked into the jester's arm. "Not bad," I said, smirking a little. Prince Charles waltzed over to retrieve the knife with that slow waltz of his. I reached for the golden amulet again and tried not to be noticed. Behind me, chalk scraped on the blackboard as Prince Charles tallied up his points. "Your turn," he said, in that dead tone of voice he always uses. I could barely hear him. Even without the background noise in The Palace, Prince Charles had a real quiet voice. He didn't look at me when he passed the knife off to me. He just pulled a pack out of his shirt pocket and tapped out his cigarette, fishing in his pants for his lighter with his other hand. "You are too much," I said, trying to distract him a little.


many changes

[amanda]

It all started at The Palace. The thing between Prince Charles and me. He was busy smoking one of those slender tipped cigarettes, rocking it back and forth in his hand, squinting real hard at the court jester, so you really couldn't tell if he was watching or too drunk to see what he was looking at. He had a card clutched kinda funny in his fingers, too, like he was aiming for the floor, but it was this trick he did with his hands to make the card fly straighter. I'd almost forgotten about it. I watched as the card left his fingers and landed into the jester's glass. "Not bad," I said, smirking a little. Prince Charles waltzed over to retrieve the card with that slow waltz of his. I reached for the golden amulet again and tried not to be noticed. Behind me, chalk scraped on the blackboard as Prince Charles tallied up his points. "Your turn," he said, in that Mickey mouse voice he always uses. I couldn't stand to hear him. Even without the background noise in The Palace, Prince Charles had a real squeeky voice. He didn't look at me when he passed the beer-soaked card off to me. He just pulled a pack out of his shirt sleeve and tapped out his next card, fishing in his pants for the ace of spades with his other hand. "You are cheating too much," I said, trying to distract him a little.


knife, arm and much of the ending

[Stormyguy]

It all started at The Palace. The thing between Prince Charles and me. He was busy smoking one of those slender tipped cigarettes, rocking it back and forth in his hand, squinting real hard at the court jester, so you really couldn't tell if he was watching or too drunk to see what he was looking at. He had a card clutched kinda funny in his fingers, too, like he was aiming for the floor, but it was this trick he did with his hands to make the card fly straighter. I'd almost forgotten about it. I watched as the card left his fingers and landed into the jester's glass. "Not bad," I said, smirking a little. Prince Charles waltzed over to retrieve the card with that slow waltz of his. I reached for the golden amulet again and tried not to be noticed. Behind me, chalk scraped on the blackboard as Prince Charles tallied up his points. "I kick ass," he said, in that Mickey mouse voice he always uses. I couldn't stand to hear him. Even without the background noise in The Palace, Prince Charles had a real squeeky voice. He didn't look at me when he passed the beer-soaked card off to me. He just pulled a pack out of his shirt sleeve and tapped out his next card, fishing in his pants for the ace of spades with his other hand. "You are cheating too much," I said, trying to distract him a little.

"Your turn"

[zefrank]

It all started at The Palace Hotel Restaurant. The thing between Chuck and me. He was busy smoking one of those slender tipped cigarellos (God knows what else), rocking it back and forth in his hand, squinting real hard so you really couldn't tell if he was paying attention or too drunk to see what he was looking at. He had a card clutched firmly between his fingers, too, like he was afraid to let it go. It was this trick he did with his hands to make the card fly straighter. I'd almost forgotten about it. I watched as the card left his fingers and landed into a woman's glass across the room. "Not bad," I said, smirking a little. Chuck walked over to retrieve the card with that slow waltz of his. I reached for the tab and tried not to be noticed. Behind me, chalk scraped on the blackboard as Chuck tallied up his drink total on the dessert menu. "I kick ass," he said, in that Mickey mouse voice he always uses. I couldn't stand to hear him. Even without the background noise in Palace, Chuck had a real squeeky voice. He didn't look at me when he passed the beer-soaked card off to me. He just pulled a pack out of his shirt sleeve and tapped out his next card, fishing in his pants for the ace of spades with his other hand. "You miss her don't you," I said, hoping to calm him a little.

[amanda]

It all started at the park. The thing between Chuck and me. He was busy smoking one of those slender tipped cigarellos (God knows what else), rocking it back and forth in his hand, squinting real hard so you really couldn't tell if he was paying attention or too blinded by the sun to see what he was looking at. He had a juggling club clutched firmly between his fingers, too, like he was afraid to let it go. It was this trick he did with his hands to make the club fly straighter. I'd almost forgotten about it. I watched as the club left his fingers and landed onto a woman's head across the field. "Not bad," I said, smirking a little. Chuck walked over to retrieve the club with that slow waltz of his. I reached for the juggling torches and tried not to be noticed. Behind me, chalk scraped on the pavement as kids tallied up the total number of cigarellos he smoked. "I kick ass," he said, in that John Wayne voice he always uses. I couldn't stand to hear him. Even without the laughter in the Park, Chuck had a real annoying voice. He didn't look at me when he passed the juggling clubs to me. He just pulled the torch fuel out of his shirt pocket and tapped out just enough on the torch wick, fishing in his pants for a lighter with his other hand. "You'll miss her, won't you?" I said, hoping to calm myself a little.

[trisherina]

It all started at the park. The thing between Chuck and me. He was busy smoking one of those slender tipped cigarellos (God knows what else), rocking it back and forth in his hand, squinting real hard so you really couldn't tell if he was paying attention or too blinded by the sun to see what he was looking at. He had a juggling club clutched firmly between his fingers, too, like he was just waiting for you to dare him to let it go. It was this trick he did with his hands to make the club fly straighter. I'd almost forgotten about it. I watched as the club left his fingers and landed onto a woman's head across the field. "Not bad," I said, wincing a little. Chuck walked over to retrieve the club with that slow waltz of his. I reached for the juggling torches and tried not to be noticed. Behind me, chalk scraped on the pavement as kids tallied up the total number of days left in their juvenile detention sentences. "I kick ass," he said, in that John Wayne voice he always uses. I couldn't stand to hear him. Even without the vitamin E he'd been using habitually, Chuck had a real annoying voice. He didn't look at me when he passed the juggling clubs to me. He just pulled the torch fuel out of his shirt pocket and tapped out just enough on the torch wick, fishing in his pants for a lighter with his other hand. "You'll miss her, won't you?" I said, hoping to calm myself a little.

[zefrank]

It was dark. The thing between us... He was busy smoking one of those slender tipped cigarellos, rocking it back and forth in his hand, squinting real hard so you really couldn't tell if he was paying attention. He had a joint clutched firmly between his fingers, too, like he was just waiting for you to dare him to let it go. It was this trick he did with his hands to make the world fly straighter. I'd almost forgotten about it. I watched as the joint left his fingers and landed onto his lips. "Not bad," I said, wincing a little. Chuck walked over with that slow waltz of his. I reached for the torch and tried not to be noticed. Behind me, chalk scraped on the pavement as kids tallied up the total number of days left in their juvenile world. "I kick ass," he said, in that slow voice he always uses. I couldn't stand to hear him. Even without the woman he'd been using habitually, Chuck had a real beautiful way. He didn't look at me when he passed the joint to me. He just pulled the torch fuel out of his shirt pocket and tapped out just enough on the wick, fishing in his pants for a pen with his other hand. "You'll miss her, won't you?" I said, hoping to calm myself a little.

[dinzdale]

It was dark. The thing between us... He was busy picking his nose with one of those slender tipped letter openers, rocking it back and forth in his hand, squinting real hard so you really couldn't tell if he was paying attention. He had a joint clutched firmly between his fingers, too, like he was just waiting for you to dare him to let it go. It was this trick he did with his hands to make the world fly straighter. I'd almost forgotten about it. I watched as the joint left his fingers and landed onto his lips. "Not bad," I said, wincing a little. Chuck walked over with that slow waltz of his. I reached for the pencil and tried not to be sick. Behind me, chalk scraped on the pavement as kids tallied up the total number of days left in this dying world. "I suck ass," he said, in that slow voice he always uses. I couldn't stand to hear him. Even without the woman he'd been using habitually, Chuck had a real beautiful way. He didn't look at me when he passed the joint to me. He just pulled the money out of his shirt pocket and dropped just enough on the table, fishing in his pants for a pen with his other hand. "You'll need this, won't you?" I said, hoping to calm myself a little.

[zefrank]

It was dark. A table between us... He was busy picking his nose with one of those slender fingers of his, rolling it back and forth in his hand, squinting real hard so you really couldn't tell if he had got one. He had a pencil clutched firmly between his fingers, too, like he was just waiting for you to dare him to let the lead out. I watched as the pencil left his fingers and landed between his lips. "Too bad," I said, wincing a little. He walked over. I reached for the pencil and tried not to be sick. Behind me, a cane scraped on the pavement as a blind man seemed to tally up the total number of days he had left in his dying world. "I suck ass," he said, in that slow voice he always uses. I couldn't stand to hear him. Even with the nosepicking, Chuck had a real beautiful way. He didn't look at me when he passed the pencil to me. He just pulled the money out of his shirt pocket and dropped just enough on the table, fishing in his pants for something with his other hand. "You'll need this, won't you?" he said. I looked down hoping to calm myself a little.

[dinzdale]

It was very dark. A python laid between us... He was busy picking horses with one of those stupid systems of his, mulling it back and forth in his mind, squinting real hard so you really couldn't tell if he had picked one. He had a pencil clutched firmly between his fingers, too, like he was just waiting for you to dare him to let the lead out. I watched as the pencil left his fingers and landed between his lips. "Too bad," I said, wincing a little. He walked over. I reached for the pencil and tried not to be sick. Behind me, a cane scraped on the pavement as a blind man seemed to tally up the total number of days he had left in his dying world. "I suck ass," he said, in that slow voice he always uses. I couldn't stand to hear him. Even with the nosepicking, Chuck had a real beautiful way. He didn't look at me when he passed the pencil to me. He just pulled the money out of his shirt pocket and dropped just enough on the table, fishing in his pants for something with his other hand. "You'll need this, won't you?" he said. I looked down hoping to calm myself a little.

[amanda]

It was very dark. The garter laid between us... He was busy picking sequined dresses with one of those stupid systems of his, mulling it back and forth in his mind, squinting real hard so you really couldn't tell if he had picked one. He had a cigarette clutched firmly between his fingers, too, like he was just waiting for you to dare him to let the smoke out. He knew I hated smoking. I watched as the cigarette left his fingers and landed between his lips. "Too bad," I said, wincing a little. He walked over. I reached for the cigarette and tried not to be sick. Behind me, a Lee Press-On nails scraped on the door as a stage manager seemed to tally up the total number of minutes I had left before my number. "I like ass," he said, in that slow voice he always uses. I couldn't stand to hear him. Even with his English accent, Charles had a real blunt way. He didn't look at me when he passed the dress to me. He just pulled the money out of his shirt pocket and dropped just enough on the table, fishing in his pants for "something" with his other hand. "You'll need this, won't you?" he said. I looked down hoping to calm myself a little.

[dinzdale]

It was very cold. The garter laid between us... He was busy picking sequined dresses with one of those stupid assistants of his, walking her back and forth in his mind, squinting real hard so you really couldn't tell if he had picked one. He had a cigarette clutched firmly between his fingers, too, like he was just waiting for you to dare him to let the smoke out. He knew I hated his assistant. I watched as the cigarette left his fingers and landed between his lips. "Nice," I said, wincing a little. He walked over. I reached for the cigarette and tried not to be sick. Behind me, a corpse hit the door as a stage manager seemed to tally up the total number of minutes I had left before my number. "I like her ass," he said, in that slow voice he always uses. I couldn't stand to hear him. Even with his English accent, Charles had a real snotty attitude. He didn't look at me when he passed the dress to me. He just pulled the monkey out of his shirt pocket and dropped it on the table, fishing in his pants for "something" with his other hand. "You need this, don't you?" he said. I looked down hoping to calm myself a little.

[zefrank]

Her garter laid between us... She was busy picking sequined dresses with one of those stupid attitudes of hers, walking her back and forth in her underwear, small utterances suggesting she had picked one. I had a cigarette clutched firmly between my fingers, and I pretended thqat she was just waiting to dare me to let the smoke out. I knew she hated that I smoked. I watched as the cigarette left my fingers and landed near her feet.

"Nice," she said, wincing a little.

I walked over, reached for the cigarette and tried not to laugh. A corpse hit the door: a store manager that seemed to have tallied up the total number of minutes we'd been in the dressing room.

"I like her ass," I said, slowly.

I couldn't help watching his face. Even with his English manners, the poor bastard had a hard time keeping it together. He didn't look at me when he passed the dress to me. He pulled the tag out of his shirt pocket and dropped it on the table, fishing in his pants for "something" with his other hand. "You need this, don't you?" he said. I looked down trying not to laugh... again.

[dinzdale]

Her dead husband laid between us... She was busy picking his pockets with one of those stupid attitudes of hers, walking back and forth in her underwear, small utterances suggesting she had found something. I had a cigarette clutched firmly between my fingers, and I pretended that she was just waiting to dare me to let the smoke out. I knew she was turned on when I smoked. I watched as the cigarette fell from my fingers and landed near the body.

"Nice," she said, smiling a little.

I walked over, reached for the cigarette and tried not to laugh. The corpse propped open the door: the store manager that seemed to have tallied up the total number of minutes we'd been in the dressing room.

"I hated his ass," I said, slowly.

I couldn't help watching her face. Even with her English manners, the poor lamb had a hard time keeping it together. She didn't look at me when she passed the dress to me. I pulled the tag out of my shirt pocket and dropped it on the table, fishing in the dead man's pants for the keys with my other hand. "You need these, don't you?" I said. She looked down trying not to smile... again.

[Hyakujo's Fox]

Her husband Fred came between us... He was busy searching for one of those stupid cigarettes of his, while walking back and forth in his underwear, small utterances suggesting he hadn't found one. I had the last cigarette tucked firmly beneath my fingers, I knew that he was just waiting for me to let the smoke out. I knew she was disappointed when a whisp of smoke escaped and curled it's way through the air. I watched the cigarette fall from my fingers and land on the carpet.

"Nice," she said, smiling sarcastically.

He walked over, reached for the cigarette and tried not to laugh. A bloody corpse fell from through the closet door: Fred must have bumped off the store manager while we'd been in the dressing room.

"I hated his ass," he said, calmly.

I couldn't help watching her face. Even with her English manners, the poor lamb had a hard time keeping it together. She wasn't looking when Fred pointed the gun at me. He pulled the carnation from out of my lapel and dropped it on her lap, she turned her gaze up from the dead man, smiled at me and took my hand. "You love him, don't you?" he said. He pulled the trigger. She fell down dead and would never smile... again.

[amanda]

Fear came between us... He was busy searching for one of those explanations of his, while walking back and forth in his underwear, small utterances suggesting he hadn't found one. I had an explanation tucked firmly between my lips, and I knew that he was just waiting for me to let it out. He was disappointed when only a wisp of excitement escaped from my mouth and curled its way through the air. I watched as his anticipation to share what I know fell, only to land on nothing.

"Nice," he said, half smiling.

He walked over, reached for my hand and I tried not to give in. Skeletons busted through the closet door: fascination must have bound and gagged lessons learned while we'd been looking the other way.

"I hate to do this," I said, sadly.

I couldn't watch his reaction. Even with his gentlemanly manners, the poor guy had a hard time keeping it together. All I could think was, “I really wasn't looking for this when it came.” I pushed away his fear and dropped it in his lap. I turned my gaze from him, smiled at myself as I took on my own destiny.

"But you like him, don't you?" they asked.

"yes, of course. " I said, meekly.

I pulled up stakes. “What-mighta-been” fell down dead and would not smile... again.