Setting the scene game, Mark II

[Moonbat]

A Subaquatic Hotel

The hotel was a dream, like something out of an Aquaman comic, a huge underwater castle, sculpted to look like coral, painted to bring colour to the depths of the ocean, lit up by several hundred underwater spot lights. The approach really took your breath away, it actaully left Ulrika speechless, for about three second. But that's where the dream ended.
It's just bloody typical, you come all the way to the bottom of the ocean, on a holiday of a life time; a holiday that'll take a lifetime to pay for, just to show your new woman a great time, to impress her with your lifestyle and what happens? It turns into the worst holiday from hell in the history of fawlty tower disaters. First of all she got seasick, then when we dived she got underseasick, then we arrived and it was all 'oh wow' and 'how grandiose'. Of course all the hotel staff were eyeing her up, most of them were conspicously chatting her up, she loved every minute of it, the attention that is. At dinner she was almost stolen from me by an oil magnate, but she was only teasing. That night was grandiose, she didn't dissapoint there, but it might have been the start of our more serious problems. She could scream you see, scream for Europe, you be afraid of that if you were trapped under 20000 leagues of seawater with her. I have to say I'm usually proud when I make her make that sound, but I didn't expect it to have such devastating consequenses. I thought I'd been told the windows in the hotel were made of glass so strong it couldn't be broken by shark tooth, or bullet, or even whale song; apparantly it can be broken by a Swedish Screaming Orgasm!

Taken from Rufus Palemont's memoirs


The Cleanest Toilet in Windsor Castle

[Interference]

Yeah, hi, Monica, yeah, it's great, you know, not many reporters allowed to view the Royal Royal Dalton, but ever since he was crowned King of the Jungle, an insider source has suggested His Royal Highness has been flushed with pride, no pun intended - much ... So, let's take a look, shall we, and see if we can guess Whoooooose Bathroom?

If you'll follow me ... this is Adrian, everybody. Adrian is our cameraman for the day, by appointment, as you might say. Don't be put off by that vacant look, he's been engaged at great expense, another pun not intended. In here, Ade.

Now this is the door, we'll have a look at it first, because it's quite some door, I think you'll have to agree. I'm told it's solid oak, I'll just give it a knock ... you hear that? That's what we call a tap on the bathroom door. They think of everything, don't they? I intended that one.

Let's just go in ... hope there's nobody in here ... nope. The light's on, all right, but there's nobody home.

So this is what it looks like on the inside. Wine red tiling all round, as you can see. Just the one mirror, surprisingly. You can just imagine whoever uses this bathroom standing in front of it, asking who the fairest of 'em all is.

Now look. Just look at these. Look at these taps. These are some taps, I think you'll agree. Solid gold, they look like. What would that be? Anyone? Eighteen carrat, something along those lines?

Anyway, these taps, and there are two more of them over here - or fawcets, if you're of an American persuasion - are probably a major cost, worth more than your salary and mine put together, Monica. These are what I would call, in the original Latin, a pair of fawcet majors! Now let's have a look at the - I think they call it whiteware in polite circles.

I can see my reflection! I'm not kidding. I can see my reflection in the porcelain. Come here, Ade, and take a look.

A look, I said! Honestly, I don't know where we get 'em from.

So, there you have it. A bathroom, but not any old bathroom. A Royal bathroom. But whose? Here's a clue. It looks like it has never, ever been used. So who do we know, who is of the Blood Royal, who finds using the convenience too much of an inconvenience?

The lines are open.


Midnight, Hallowe'en, in a Waxworks Museum

[briantm]

Tweaking the cigar in his mouth, Groucho froze me with a glassy stare. He knew I'd stolen Mike's keys and didn't much approve. Harpo didn't seem to care. "We drop an E and finish our cans in the waxworks." Seemed like a great idea when Joey saw Mike had left his jacket. Now I think I got a bad pill coz I'm on the edge of a downer. Joey wasn't pleased when I refused to go into the horror icons aisle but I could feel the paranoia setting in. He's more than happy now though, sharing a brew with the King. Couldn't find the lights so we were illuminating the familiar faces with our zippos.

Oh ****. Bette Midler!

"Hey Joey, lets head back and check out Frank and the Wolfman."


Next setting: Japanese Arcade

[Zubi-Ondo]

Next setting: Japanese Arcade

"Tsing Tsao Ping!" "Arigato. You lose..." Lights blinked at Najii in different colors, but the display no longer responded to the "Joy" stick. "Dang Sakajawea game! I go try the Pinball wizard. Maybe I win again."

A fury was whipping up on the next aisle as the American one they called Tommy was still going on the same game after 39 minutes, and a crowd of at least 15 onlookers were cheering for him.

"How can deaf, dumb, and blind one beat me!" Cried Najii. He stomped across the rows until he found a quiet little game called 'The Acid Queen.' Maybe I have better luck with this one. He dropped 4 quarters in the slot a he soon found himself in a room with a very oddly dressed young woman.

"Hmm... What happens next?" Najii said, looking around at the dark curtains and the round crystal ball on the table in the middle of the room.

(Okay It's a Who rip-off. I doubt they'll mind.)


A crowded street in Las Vegas, Nevada. A hooker approaches a man and his wife, asking them lewd and unsavory questions.

[Interference]

The rain had eased off, or perhaps it was just starting to gather itself together for another onslaught, and the streets were becoming populated again with people declaring that they never expected this much rain in August, for crying out loud.

"What do you reckon it is," someone said. "Government cloud-seeding program, or armageddon?"

"Cumulo nimbus," a road-sweeper who had heard the question replied.

Alan Marsh laughed a little and his wife nudged him and smiled. Perhaps no two other people in the world, Al thought to himself, would have either heard the exchange or shared a moment of amusement over it. He held her arm tighter to him and squeezed her hand a little and she leaned her head on his shoulder for two more steps.

"Hey, Al! Where ya been? This yo liddle lay-deh?"

Al looked around and met the wonderous eyes of Wanda Wellcome (he hadn't believed it was her real name when she'd first told him it and, though he'd read all the James Bond books ever written and seen two of the films, he couldn't get it out of his head that she had taken her name from an Ian Fleming).

"Hi, Wanda, yes, this is Patty. Patty," he said turning to his wife, "this is the hooker I've been telling you about."

"Oh, hullo," said Patty, "Al has told me so much about you, I really can't wait until New Year's eve."

"What's happening New Year's eve?" Wanda asked, somewhat befuddled.

"Oh, Patty, now, come on, I told you it was meant to be a surprise," Al said and though his words were sternly uttered, his eyes twinkled whimsically.

"It's still going to be a surprise, hon," Patty said. "I haven't told her anything more than the date."

"We havin' a date?" Wanda asked. "You into t'reesomes, then, Al? That yo bag, man?"

"I'll thank you not to refer to my wife as a bag, if you don't mind," said Al, but he performed affront so well that only Patty could be sure he was kidding.

"So, what you an' the stick here got lined up for us New Year?" said Wanda who was not entirely aware of her surroundings, let alone the subtleties of conversational exchange. "Sump'n wit' baby oil, I'll bet. Yo hubby sho likes his baby oil, Martha."

"Patty," said Patty. "Yeah, I know he does."

"You know what else he loves, Tandy?" said Wanda.

"Pretty much," Patty replied and she smiled at her husband's faux embarrassment.

"I'm still here!" he said. "I have ears, you know. Honestly, I've never been embarrassed like this before."

"Plenty of other ways, I'll bet," said Wanda. "So, come on. Spill. What's up New Year's eve? Or should I say, 'who's up'?" She laughed outrageously at the wit and humour of her own remark and attempted to nudge the couple alternately with her elbows but gave up as she felt herself begin to teeter unsteadily.

"Oh, go on, Al, let me tell her. I'm so excited and she's so drunk."

"Oh, all right, as long as she'll forget everything we say in the morning, you can tell her."

Patty clapped her hands gleefully and took Wanda into a pornographic tatoo parlour doorway for some privacy. The door opened, so they moved.

"Don't tell a soul," said Patty, and Wanda swore she wouldn't, half wondering why she would tell anyone about whatever private party this couple had planned, and then she thought of a couple of people so she swore again more vehemently. "We're destroying Vegas at midnight, New Year's eve."

"You bet," said Wanda.

"Al here's an angel, you see."

"You bet he is, sweetie," said Wanda, winking at the man in question.

"So am I, if it comes to that."

"I'll bet," said Wanda again.

"He does the raining fire," said Patty, "and I do the pestillence."

"I've never heard of those," said Wanda who thought she knew every position there was.

"We're cleaning up the planet, starting with the whore palaces and gambling houses, then we're moving on to the money lenders and corrupt politicians. It's really so exciting. My first, you know."

"Yeah, well, honey, way I see it, you'll always remembers yo first," Wanda said and she winked.


The Engine Room of a Toy Factory

[Moonbat]

The Engine Room of a Toy Factory
Sally was tired, her arms ached, her wrists were beginning to sound as brittle as weetabix, her mouth was as dry as a desert's wit, her throat as sore as an alcoholic's pride and the ringing in her ears had devolved from a high pitch scream into a dull rythmic roar. She walked the dog, and rocked the cradle, if only to give her mind something to concentrate on. That was usually what killed them, not the repetitive strain injuries or the lack of clean air, not even the meagre rations that they had to eat through straws, but the monotony of yo-yo-ing for 24hrs a day, 7 days a week, 52 weeks a year. But she couldn't stop, she had seen what happened when children stopped yo-yo-ing. The factory always required lubricant and the driver liked to say 'there aint nothing as slimy as the blood and guts of naughty children'
So sally kept on yo-yo-ing


Driving along the world's longest and most remote road, in a milkfloat

[Interference]

Day 12: Drove over a bump this morning. Nearly spilled some milk. Close, or what!

Day 42: Refrigeration unit must be on the fritz. I can smell something rotten in back.

Day 121: Last night's bend has left me shaking like a jellyfish. Why can't they put up signs warning about things like that? Had another cheese sandwich for breakfast. I think the cheese is off, now, as well.

Day 238: Nearly there, now, I can see the smoke from the chimney against the sky. Boy, will they be glad to see me. Getting colder these evenings, but I have mum's scarf.

Day 300: Celebrated my birthday this morning. Post man said he'd driven all night to find me. He did it in one night??? Starting to get ice forming on my windscreen. Never mind. Nearly there.

Day 358: Delivered milk to the Hutchisons at last. They didn't seem as pleased as I thought they'd be. Ah, well, better get back home. Recharging the batteries in their cow shed tonight, should be ready to head off in the morning.

Day 360: Just realised ... They have cows!!!


Flying the very first Kyte in ancient Japan

[Zubi-Ondo]

Flying the very first Kyte in ancient Japan

Kyoto and Wi had been friends from boyhood. Now reaching the beginnings of manhood, their dreams were getting bigger and more extreme. They dreamt of becoming great warriors, and joining the royal army. They had daily pretend battles with sticks for swords and drew battle game strategies in the dirt. One day, as they were drawing just such a map, a strong wind whipped through the outcropping of rocks around them. They had built a small box out of rice paper and sticks, meant to be a model of a fortress they were attacking. The wind blew the dirt and sand every which way and destroyed the drawings they had made in the dirt. Having covered their eyes to shield them from the dust, they didn't see the box blow up into the air until the wind had died down and they uncovered their eyes. The model fortress was being carried away with the wind higher and higher. It grew smaller in their sight as it blew up and away.
"If only we could fly." Wi said in a wistful manner.
"Yes." Kyoto replied with a sigh. As Kyoto watched the box flying away, his thoughts began to take a new course. He turned to Wi and said, "You know, if we had tied that box down it could only have flown as far as the string would allow." He was now smiling at Wi.
Wi began to smile as well. "Yes. Maybe we can't fly, but we can make our fortresses fly!" He said with glee.
The next day they went to the same hill, and the same outcropping of rock, where they took out the new makeshift fortress they had made, now having a string attached. They pinned the end of the string under a rock. They waited, and waited. No wind came. They started to doubt if they had really come up with a good idea at all. They got up to leave, and as Kyoto moved the rock that held the string the wind began to pick up. They exchanged looks of hopefulness, and soon a wind came and took the box out of Kyoto's hand. He fumbled to find the end of the string and the whole clump of string fell on the ground. Before the box had completely escaped with the wind, Wi stomped on the end of the string with his foot, and quickly after that, the sting became taught and the fortress was flipping around in the wind at roughly 40 meters above them. It spun in circles and began to tangle itself up in the string. Within minutes it had taken a dive and crashed into the ground.

They practiced their new art again and again in the days that followed. When they showed their parents, the parents laughed and said "Boys, you have come up with a most impressive toy. We will take this idea to the craftsman Jo-Shin in the marketplace, and see if he will go into business with us to build, and perfect this toy."

This kite eventually became known as the "SUMIYOSHI" kite, and was sold not only as a toy, but also used for signaling troops in times of war.


Two Outlaws in the American old west trapped at the top of a cliff by the sheriff and his trackers. The only escape available is to jump about 75 meters into a large, (and hopefully deep) river below.

[Interference]

"I can't swim, Butch."

"Guess we'd better give up, then."

"Okay."



A security officer and a homeless person together after closing time in a nightclub with a leaking roof during a thunderstorm.

[MistingWolf]

An Upscale Restaurant

The lights were dim, but there were enough of them to keep the restaurant lit. Couples in fine suits, sparkling dresses, and expensive wigs laced with cheap pearls sat at their respective tables. Each table stood with a sort of indignance in their red tablecloths perfectly centered over their tops. I shift uncomfortably in my chair, my high heels squishing my toes together, and trying to ignore the wedgie that had presented itself after I had sat down. The conversation of the others of our double date drifted around me as I only half-paid attention to their boisterous talking.

Oh, wait... I didn't see there was a third page >.> My bad.... Uh..... I got no ideas for Interference's setting ^^;

Next
At sea

[Interference]

(in seven letters or more)

[limubai2000]

I'll take a shot Interference...

A security officer and a homeless person together after closing time in a nightclub with a leaking roof during a thunderstorm.

"Thanks for letting stay man."

"Sure." The thunder cracked overhead as he spoke. "Make sure yuz stay away from the bar. You're all wet for Pete's sake. Walk on the carpet."

"Ok man. Whatever you say."

The homeless bum staggered forward with his bagged bottle towards the seats at the stage of the strip club. The main lights were off and only the glow from the emergency lights lit the interior. The bum plopped himself down at a table with a small lamp on it near the stage.

Drip.... drip... drip. A steady leak near the pole formed a pool of moldy smelling rain water.

The security guard pulled out a chair and sat down facing the bum. "What ya got there? Anythin good? Vodka? Jack Daniels?"

"No man. Just some cheap malt from down the street. Here try some."

The guard took a drink and making a strained face as he swallowed. "Hooo eee! That's nasty." He handed it back as thunder cracked again. "Ain't seen a night like this in a long while."

The bum stared at the leak on the stage.

"Say, do ya know Wandering Winnie?"

"No. Can't say that I do."

"She used ta hang around here. She was such a sweet thing, I wished I got me some of that before she got herself done in." His eyes sparkled as he talked about the deceased hooker. Heavy rain pounded on the roof.

The bum finished the malt and held the bagged bottle upside down showing it was empty.

"No problem. Let me grab some of the club's stuff. The owner never misses it, it's my fringe benefit!"

The guard returned a moment later with a bottle of vodka and two glasses as thunder cracked again.

They drank and swapped stories about the street people they knew. It turned out that they had common acquaintances and most of them were in fact dead. The leak had turned into a stream and the stage was now a small pond.

"Hey, I'm hungry. Whatss about you?"

"Yeah, I'm famished."

"Well, ssssay I can't leave the club, but what ya sssssay I give ya ten dollars to go grab us ssssome cheesssseburgers?"

The bum eyes perked up. "Sure."

"Letsss me take a pisssss first." He got up and staggered towards the bathroom.

The thunder boomed several times shaking the windows and rain continued to pound on the roof.

The bum smiled and showed his two fangs. "Just like Winnie..."


Next
At sea

[Interference]

(happy, now)

[Encephylops]

At Sea

The wind was high and mighty, blowing sprays and bouquets of the salinous fluid across the somber ship. The canopy of endless sky was glowing a loud ultramarine in every direction but east, where the towering orange cumulonimbus cut a wide path across the sunrise. The moods of the five huddled on the promenade deck were dour, they had each of them been seventeen days without food or water, with the exception of Reca; she had been fool enough to drink a sizeable amount of the ocean contents after awaking delusional one week ago. They had made her a bed of the rope they'd found on deck, padding it with the flotation safety jackets. She was in a bad way, shivering and muttering to herself in fevered tones, waking to vomit useless dry stench. Often she could be heard at night whispering angrily stupid, stupid, stupid. So damned stupid; gah, so stupid...

Two days later she expired, and the withered survivors - her lover of 9 years and his three best chums - offered her body to the sea.

The following morning, they found the keys to the boat.

Next:
The cataclysmic end of the world, in a convenience store.

[Zoe_W]

The cataclysmic end of the world, in a convenience store.

I was just tossing together a chili dog for lunch when the mob hit the front door. I'd seen similar crowds coming in to cash their checks at the Check-Rite booth at the back of our Kwik-E Mart, but I knew this wasn't the same kind of crowd. These people were terrified, so scared that many of them stumbled over the rolling drink display case in the middle of the floor. It was like they didn't see it.

Plus, it was Tuesday, and the panicked mobs running in to cash their checks arrived on Friday. They never tripped over the drink case on their way in, either. They were panicked, sure, but this crowd was in a blind panic.

Through the wide plate-glass windows, between the ads for cigarettes and Slim Jims, I saw the sky, and my mouth fell open. Gone was the familiar azure blue, and in its place was a sickly technicolor swirl. It was like a screen degaussing, or perhaps some borealis vomited across the sky in colors that were impossibly bright.

They became brighter still, washing out the sunlight. Soon the aisles of my beloved Kwik-E Mart were awash in reds, purples, greens, and yellows. The candy aisle to my right looked like an exotic disco hall, but the people in the aisle were shaking instead of dancing, and the music on the ceiling mounted speakers was Celine Dion. Nobody can dance to her crap-fest music.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a woman trying to climb into the now empty drink cooler. The plastic, barrel-shaped container was just big enough to accommodate her, but I wondered what she'd hoped to accomplish. Perhaps when the radiation in the sky melted the plastic container, her body might be better preserved?

My attention was drawn outside again, past the gas pumps. A loud runble filled the air, and down the street, I saw chunks of pavement beaking up so fast, black dust was rising in plumes into the air.

The ground was breaking up in a ripple, and one wall of the expanding ring was moving with deadly inevitability toward the underground gas tanks. I wondered what would kill us first; would it be the explosion from the gas, or the implosion of the sky?

Next scene: A smoke filled Jazz club in the 1950's