NICE BOD: Volidity Report Short Stories Kind-Of Using the 'Exqusitie Corpse' Method Over Gmail While At Work ~~~ # 1: A CLOSE ENCOUNTER

Exquisite Corpse was a drawing game played by the Surrealists, and every person since.  Each contributor writes a paragraph, and passes it on, adding to the story.  We didn't do it 'blind' which I guess means it's not exactly EC, but who cares.  Contributors to this round were C. Cameron, E. Wright, and LK Shov.   Remember kids - just because you're in the office, doesn't mean you can't be productive!


One time, I was sitting in a booth at Baja Burrito. It was late, probably after 8, and I had just driven back into town. I could have bought some Wendy's on the drive, but I opted to just hold off and get the good stuff. It was late, but I remember this Baja had a bar. Strange, I remember thinking at the time. At the bar, a couple were sitting, pounding rolling rocks and waiting on their burritos to be made. They were clearly velociraptors, anyone could see that. They had long tails which allowed them to balance on their bar stools, and wore long trenches which hung down to the floor. They were bickering in hushed tones, but if I focused my attention I could make out some of what they were saying. "Diana just doesn't have any idea about social etiquette," said the one on the left. "If she wants to get fresh, she might just get popped. Is she afraid I won't?" "I think she's just getting you confused with Blake," said the other one, eyeing the empty ashtray on the bar. "She just puts up this armor, you can't get through. she is so annoying, and if that's the way shes going to act, I'm just don't know what I'm gonna do." The first raptor said nothing. His burrito had arrived.

Clearly though, it was more than just the burrito that the raptor had on his mind. Yes he had a deep-seated fondness for barbacoa (as do most velociraptors, for obvious reasons), but it was the struggle with Diana that really got to him. He didn't want to admit it to Valerie, his date on this fine evening, but his feelings and frustrations ran deeper than just annoyance over her social behavior. She had the finest, longest tail in town, and all the other single male raptors lusted over it. Including himself. It was just the way she slung it around for everyone to see that maddened him so. But it maddened him in other ways too, ways that couldn't be admitted it anyone else, other than joking or complaining to his date. All that was left at this time was to eat his burrito and continue getting drunk on Rolling Rocks.

"Say," said Valerie. "Don't look now but there's a human giving you a little stink eye at the end of the bar."

"Oh hush," he said. "You're drunk." But oh so casually, he craned his long neck to look at the human watching them and trying to eavesdrop. He didn't like it one bit, but for decorum's sake he tried as best as he could to ignore it.

Valerie was completely out of her comfort zone. First of all, she couldn’t believe that her date, the raptor she has been ogling over for weeks now, took her out to a bar at a BURRITO joint. Didn’t he know she was trying to cut carbs and follow that strict herbivore diet her best friend, Zara, was on? She guessed not. Second of all, he had the audacity to take her to a place where humans were free to roam around; Valerie understood that they didn’t pose any real threats, but ever since she had that run in with the douchebag at Wells Fargo, she tried her hardest to avoid those wimpy excuses for “animals.” However, the thing that was really bugging her about this whole “date” thing was the way Craig reacted with the mention of Diana. She knew she shouldn’t have brought her up, but she had to confirm to herself that the rumors weren’t true. Craig couldn’t have feelings for the oblivious, socially inept, ditsy excuse for a raptor that was Diana. But it was clear to Valerie that as much as she tried to diss Diana, she was always going to be second-rate in Craig’s mind. The way his eyes lit up the moment she said her name was a big enough blow to make Valerie down her beer. “I never should have met him here” she thought, “I fucking hate burritos."

The patrons were getting belligerent, but who has never seen that before. That's the thing about these sauropods. They're all talk. You try and get to know them, but you can never get past the drama. And the racism. My chalupa arrived, and my thoughts drifted out the window. Gloria was like that. The year was 1967, and I had been seeing this pretty little allosaur down in Montgomery. We met by happenstance. I - fresh out of the Ozarks, with my 2 year Certificate of Paleontology fresh from the printer, flapping in the breeze, and she- a curvaceous, 12 foot tall creature from the Cretaceous Period, found each other chatting at a house party downtown over mint juleps. If I am honest with myself, I knew from the get go that we could never be. It was that sense of urgency that probably drew us together. When Gloria told me she was leaving town the following week - there had been a 'mishap' at the museum of natural history- she asked if I would come with her, but I said no.

I snapped back to the present, the air was thick with the summer rain and the smoky aroma of cooked meat. Violence hung in the air like a freshly caught snapper ready to flop up and rake your skin with its scales in its last throes of life. The basketball game on ESPN was drawing the attention of most patrons, though a clear growling could be distinctly heard from the sauropod corner. I guess it goes to show how many people just don't see or hear what they don't want to or cant understand. But something about the growling of a velociraptor will put fear into the hearts of even the most hardened man. I hoped it had nothing to do with me, after the male one and I gave each other stink eye for a good five minutes earlier. So, instead of waiting around for him to try and eat me or some bullshit, I downed the last of my beer, paid my tab and walked out the door. I felt pretty good about having avoided an altercation with those 2 sauropods, and thought I might actually whistle a tune.

As I turned the corner of the building, headed towards my car, I noticed three young men in hooded sweatshirts lurking in the shadows. Surreptitiously glancing behind me and seeing no one else around, the fear I thought I had conquered earlier had swiftly returned. I really need a hobby, I thought.

Tales from the Spambots - Italian Spambots Indicating

Many, from About.com to the favorite web magazine of cranky racists to Habsburg Emperor Charles V, regard the Italian language as the most beautiful in the world. Twitterbots, in their eternal quest to become more human, have tried to learn about our emotions through our hobbies and online activities. Now a new generation has become more philosophical and linguistic, quoting great philosophers and timeless sayings from a variety of cultures.

Take for example the musings of Ruben Kenneth Galbraith--lesser known brother of noted economist J.K. Galbraith--forgotten by history but remembered by spambots:

Or let's hear from Julianne Smiley, goateed resident of "ukraine, usa," who quotes some classic American wisdom:
But like human users of the Interwebs, our Twitterbot friends have also grown fond of the Italian language, and its various indications: