Thread to Write a Story Using One Sentence Per Post

ANd then the dreaded MatRob appeared, half cousin to the Matrix, he rushed thru the assembled crowd flashing (his camera) at the mob as the Buyer rushed down the steps of the British Museum shouting "I've got one, I've got one" - Toy responded "You are not taking that statue of Bachus in my taxi"

Derek

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"Yes I am", although only a body of a Roman God the cab driver would get a good enough tip if he got it to Swindon within the hour.

Sadly, the taxi driver kept yammering on about his fiancée; this faux pas cost him his tip.

In disgust the buyer placed the statue on the spare plinth across from Nelsons column. There wasa scream of angush from behind as a group of modern artist bore down lofting the body of a cow preserved in formaldehyde above their heads.

"A mossst unexssspected pleasssure," said the Buyer, licking his lips in anticipation, "a pre-dinner morsel."

As Mr Toy had taken 250 pounds cash as an advance payment on a journey outside of the boundaries of his licensing authority, he didn't give a shit about the tip and managed to arrive well within the hour.



Regards,

Steve.

The Buyer, now in human form, came to again in a sea of formaldehyde and broken glass, and stared in amazement at Nelson's column, which he was almost certain did not belong in Swindon...

As the buyer got to his feet the crowd that had gathered around him inexplicably scattered in panic but, too dazed to even wonder why, he staggered to the side of road and yelled, "Taxi!"

"250 pounds in cash, not bad . . . not bad at all", little did he know that as he stroked and counted his wad his passage between London and Swindon had been secretly observed and already the feared GATSOS were munching through his wad of notes.

Mr Toy thought to himself,

"Hmm, that radar and laser detector was money well-spent, only 70 quid off Ebay,"

as for SPECS on the M4 he knew it was all just a hoax.



Regards,

Steve.

Unfortunately though you always get what you pay for and eventually a fault with the radar would turn into a makeshift death beam that boiled Jeremy Clarkson's face off when he came to open a Tescos in Stafford.

"Ssso, Missster Toy" began the Buyer; "do you fansssy a ssspot of dinner before we reach the sssity of Ssswindon?"

Agent Toy smiled wanly as he reached for the ejector seat button - he knew how to deal with "difficult" fares...

Toy pressed down hard on the ejector seat button only to hear the soothing tones of his taxi's on-board computer voice respond with the message "Warning ejector seat disabled, passenger is not wearing seatbelt"

Petrikovich pressed the chloroform soaked handkerchief to Natasha's face, then held her limp, yet surpringly*******, form gently as the black sedan pulled alongside.

*** edited to preserve good taste

Marvin, the paranoid android (now standard equipment on all Golf based platforms) grimaced to himself once more “Brain the size of planet and all I get asked to do is eject this, eject that, and how to avoid traffic jams – I wish I was dead”.

Meanwhile in Swindon under the attention of Mike and a feather duster the newly unwrapped “Greek” God was starting to sparkle and shine; he had no idea the RFID chip implanted in the heel of the statue was leading the Metropolitan Police Antiquities squad directly to his front door.

Roy

AS the Buyer was positioning the "body" of Mediterranean extraction on the LOriwhatsit plinth he noticed that the label on the bottom of the statue was a Blue circle with the word

"Lika"

and not the Red circle he expected to find containing the word

"Leica"

he had been duped - he had a fake

The British Museum had shipped the original statue back to the mediterranean country that it rightfully belonged to and had replaced all the statues with plastic imitations.

Derek

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Following the popular success of face boiling Clarkson, the Blair government ordered the same fate for all those deemed more annoying than Mick Hucknall starting in Swindon.

Experience the emotional gamut as it all takes place on the back lot at ealing studios

The buyer looked deep into the eyes of the taxi driver.

"Why does my life suddenly feel like it was scripted by the same guys who faked the moon landings for NASA?", he asked.

Agent Toy switched on his turbo windscreen wipers and watched with satisfaction as the Buyer was launched into the air.

Meanwhile, back in Swindon, Professor McTavish was enunciating his theories on collective creative works, apparently unaware of either the minor detail that the lecture theatre was quite empty or the somewhat less minor detail that he was now dead. "You see" he explained, "there is almost always a terminal loss of continuity if each person writes exactly one sentence. If, however, each contributor finishes..."

[This message was edited by JeremyD on WEDNESDAY 17 December 2003 at 00:32.]