J-Walk can get away with his Add Four Words post because he has hundreds of daily readers and enough of them who share his sense of fun or sense of humour to go along with the interactive posts on his blog. Here at Steel White Table, good luck. The most interactive aspect of SWT is Jody responding to my posts and me responding to his posts. (Although it does seem to have picked up recently, especially with the addition of Tommyboy and Tommy’s Brudder, along with the — I guess you call them — regulars: Rebecca, Ashley, Pender, Steve, and Greg — I think that’s everybody, right?)
To prove my point, or to disprove my point, let’s see what happens when we try to same thing here at Steel White Table. For those who haven’t clicked the J-Walk link, here’s the deal (taken almost exactly from J-Walk’s post):
Each comment for this post should contain exactly five words, and those five words should flow from the previous five words. The result will be a collaborative story. You can post any number of comments, but you may not post two comments in a row.
(NOTE (May 14/07): I may edit certain comments to correct syntax and spelling and add or remove an extra word if the word-count is wrong. I also have no problem deleting comments I don’t like. And how about we keep it to one comment per day? It’s interesting how things have worked out so far, though I suspect it has to self-destruct eventually.)
I’ll start.
Just when Albert thought he…
See also Add Five Words – Part 2.
found his lost car keys,
a cat landed on his
keyboard. It caused a glitch,
not unlike what happens when
you accidentally put your hand
in your pants to scratch
an inch. I mean itch.
Then he looked up at
what appeared to be a
butterfly outside his window, caught
in a web. The spider
considered its options, and then
quickly spun its web, for
it saw a dumb human
with a banjo tied to
branches from the tree on
fire. “Stupid humans,” thought the
spider. “Why can’t they be
more like Jody, introspective, intelligent,
and Web-savvy.” Suddenly, the spider
got squished by a large
flatulent llama, nick named Osama,
who it turns out is
rather fond of Taco Bell,
except for the nauseating smell.
Meanwhile, Albert finished his coffee,
oblivious to the meteorite that
was inching ever closer to
The Joey Lawrence Educational Institute
(JLEI), best known for its
classes on celebrity impressions. “Woooh!”
Albert now had the runs
not unlike semi-settled Jello (yum)
as he rushed to the
public swimming pool by mistake.
Did he remember to bring
his bathing trunks? You never
know about Albert. He could
juggle five chainsaws, yet couldn’t
even remember where he lived.
Albert was a man of
enormous appetites, both culinary and
of collecting RuPaul trading cards,
much like his friend, Jim
Nabors, whom he met when
he uttered, “Well Golllleeee,” on
the Miramichi, where he had,
after an arduous struggle, caught
David Adams Richards’s grandfather’s salmon
with a hook fashioned from