[Ipg-smz] Fwd: Pass this along to the IPG .. if you dare!

[Stephen Satchell]

I accept the dare, O lady of the sharp blue pencil


-------- Forwarded Message --------
Subject: Pass this along to the IPG .. if you dare!
Date: Thu, 2 Jan 2020 14:47:01 -0800
From: HB Clifford <hbjclifford at gmail.com>
To: Stephen Satchell <satch at satchell.net>

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This sums up men and women, better than anything:

The professor told his class one day: “Today we will experiment with a 
new form called the tandem story. The process is simple. Each person 
will pair off with the person sitting to his or her immediate right. As 
homework tonight, one of you will write the first paragraph of a short 
story. You will email your partner that paragraph and send another copy 
to me. The partner will read the first paragraph and then add another 
paragraph to the story and send it back, also sending another copy to 
me. The first person will then add a third paragraph, and so on… back 
and forth. Remember to re-read what has been written each time in order 
to keep the story coherent. There is to be absolutely NO talking outside 
of the emails and anything you wish to say must be written in the email. 
The story is over when both agree a conclusion has been reached.”

The following was actually turned in by two of his English students,
Rebecca and Gary.

THE STORY (first paragraph by Rebecca).
At first, Laurie couldn’t decide which kind of tea she wanted. The
chamomile, which used to be her favorite for lazy evenings at home, now
reminded her of Carl. who once said, in happier times, that he liked
chamomile. But she felt she must now, at all costs, keep her mind off 
Carl. His possessiveness was suffocating, and if she thought about him 
too much her asthma started acting up again. So chamomile was out of the 
question.

(Second paragraph by Gary)
Meanwhile, Advance Sergeant Carl Harris, leader of the attack squadron 
now in orbit over Skylon 4, had more important things to think about 
than the neuroses of an air-headed, asthmatic bimbo named Laurie with 
whom he had spent one sweaty night over a year ago. “A.S. Harris to 
Geost Station 17,” he said into his transgalactic communicator. “Polar 
orbit established. No sign of resistance so far…” But before he could 
sign off, a bluish particle beam flashed out of nowhere and blasted a 
hole through his ship’s cargo bay. The jolt from the direct hit sent him 
flying out of his seat and across the cockpit.

(Rebecca)
He bumped his had and died almost immediately, but not before he felt 
one last pang of regret for completely ruining things with the one woman 
who had ever had feelings for him. Soon afterwards, Earth stopped its 
pointless hostilities towards the peaceful farmers of Skylon 4. 
“Congress Passes Law Permanently Abolishing War and Space Travel,” 
Laurie read in her newspaper one morning. The news simultaneously 
excited her and bored her. She stared out the window, dreaming of her 
youth, when the days had passed unhurriedly and carefree, with no 
newspaper to read, no television to diestract her from her sense of 
innocent wonder at all the beautiful things around her.

(Gary)
Little did she know, but she had less than 10 seconds to live. Thousands 
of miles above the city, the Anu’udrian mothership had launched the 
first of its lithium fusion missiles. The dimwitted wimpy peaceniks who 
pushed the unilateral Aerospace Disarmament Treaty through the congress 
had left the Earth a defenseless target for the hostile alien emipires 
who were determined to destroy the human race. Within two hours after 
the passage of the treaty, the Anu’udrian ships were on course for 
Earth, carrying enough firepower to pulverise the entire planet. With no 
one to stop them, they swiftly initiated their diabolical plan. The 
lithium fusion missile entered the atmosphere unimpeded. The President, 
in his top-secret mobile submarine headquarters on the ocean floor off 
the coast of Guam, felt the inconceivably massive explosion, which 
vaporized poor, stupid Laurie.

(Rebecca)
This is absurd. I refuse to continue this mockery of literature. My 
writing partner is a violent, chauvinistic, semi-literate adolescent.

(Gary)
Yeah? Well, my writing partner is a self-centered, tedious, neurotic, 
whose attempts at writing are the literary equivalent of Valium. “Oh, 
shall I have chamomile tea? Or shall I have some other sort of F–KING 
TEA??? Oh no, what am I to do? I am such an air headed bimbo who reads 
too many Danielle Steel novels!”

(Rebecca)
Asshole

(Gary)
Bitch!

(Rebecca)
FUCK YOU – YOU NEANDERTHAL!!

(Gary)
In your dreams, HOE.  Go drink some tea!

(Teacher)

A+ – I really liked this one!

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H.B.J. Clifford
principal, Tahoe Translation Group, Inc.
Reno-Tahoe, Nevada U.S.A.
U.S. PST:  GMT/UTC -8 hours