Suddenly I looked around and asked myself, "What have I gotten into here?"

Suddenly I looked around and asked myself, "What have I gotten into here?"

Writing assignment beginning with the same sentence where no one knows what the other person wrote:
By Susan, Melissa, Doghouse. D.A., Misty Jo, Sue, Garvis and Jeff.

Suddenly I looked around and asked myself, "What have I gotten into here?" This wasn't what I meant to do, where I meant to go or how I meant to get there. I didn't understand.It didn't make any sense! If I explained this to anyone, they would think I was nuts.. off my rocker."The Chick is Twisted", they would confirm to each other. Well I have never denied that, but come on, that didn't help me out at all. What have I gotten myself into? All I can do is ponder deeply and hope I figure out the answer by nightfall.Because once nightfall hits.. all bets are off.

Suddenly I looked around and asked myself, "What have I gotten into here?" I knew showing up at this place was a mistake. I knew not listening to my instincts would get me into trouble. But I never expected … this! Whatever 'this' is. "What exactly are we watching?" I asked the guy standing next to me. We both tilted our heads to the left so we could keep up with the action. "Is he… was that… are they going to… that looked uncomfortable. Hey!" I turned my full attention to the man in blue in hopes of getting a response. "Are you going to answer my question?"

Suddenly I looked around and asked myself, "What have I gotten into here?" It was just a silly sore throat and if I didn't worry about that stuff so much I never would have thought of going to see the doctor in the first place, but I do, and here I am, so save your "I told you so"'s for later. Okay? You hear that Lisa? Wherever you are? No, you don’t, because you’re not here and even if you were here you never heard anything I said anyway so you wouldn’t be hearing this anyway, so just forget it. Can we do that? Probably not if you were really here because you’d be telling me you’re not going to be forgetting anything anytime soon while I thought about choking you. Maybe it was a good thing when she left. Anyway, I thought the doc would take a look down my throat with that little light thing, feel my neck, say “hmmm” and send the nurse down the hall for one of those throat swab things which would reassure me I was alright and then I’d be on my way, but here I was, alone in an open-backed examination gown with nothing on underneath and worst of all, my shoes and socks were keeping company with the rest of my clothes in a plastic bag hanging from a hook on the back of the exam room door. My feet were cold. My throat was still scratchy, although not really enough now to warrant a visit to the doc and Lisa was still pissing me off although the involuntary clenching of my hands had seemed to stop. Yeah, I know, and I don't want to talk about power either, okay?

Five minutes turned to ten and the anxiety over my scratchy throat was thankfully lost with the effort of trying to translate the Spanish language medical wall chart of sexually transmitted diseases which was hanging right next to the wall chart of diseases of the human spine. Unfortunately, neither of these efforts was enough to make me forget that I was sitting on a hard examination table in a cold examination room, naked underneath a gown I was unable to tie in the back. As I was listening to Lisa's voice tell me I'd just be getting dressed and leaving if I had any sense, but we both know that I don't have any sense which is why I'm still sitting here bare-assed like some type of idiot who can’t take care of himself the door opened. I turned to smile at the doc, more out of relief that he was actually here and was able to shut Lisa up than from any real sense of happiness to see him and finally get the show on the road, but saw two men in matching black suit coats entering the room instead. I was just thinking they looked exactly the same when the man on the left looked at me and said, “Are you ready, Mr. Sherman?” Sherman? Who the hell is Mr. Sherman? These guys must have me mixed up with some other guy in some other room and as I leaned forward to tell them they were in the wrong room, I bumped the glass of root beer the nurse had given me earlier and spilled it all over the bedside table. It was then that I noticed the slightly off color and odd smell of the drink, but it was too late to do anything because the two guys in the black suits were suddenly four and then a blurry and wiggly eight and then the room started spinning in front of me and the last thing I remember is dropping back down to the exam table.

Suddenly I looked around and asked myself, "What have I gotten into here?"
The room was in disarray. The place looked like it had been ransacked, Cushions had been shredded, the cabinet drawers had been dumped with their contents strewn about the place. Even the curtains had been pulled down. Something odd was afoot. How did this happen?
The day had started innocently enough, I had gotten up at the usual time. Had a shower and poured myself a coffee. The birds were singing, the bees were buzzing. It looked like it was going to be a beautiful, ordinary day. The first clue that something would go amiss today occurred shortly after lunch. I was walking through the park when I was accosted by an old woman. Her hair was wild and unkempt, and she was wearing a flannel nightgown. "You're the focal point! The energies will focus around you!" And she started making these weird hand gestures towards me. I hurried away from her, she was obviously deranged!
As I walked home from work later that evening, a small army of squirrels and chipmunks were following me! I didn't believe it when I first noticed that mass of slowly moving rodents. But when I stopped, they all stopped. When I turned a corner, they turned a corner. I started to run; and I took many turns down unfamiliar streets. And the rodent army doggedly kept up pursuit. Finally, I saw my house. I made a mad dash for the door; lurched it open and slammed it. I looked out the peep-hole in the door, and all across my lawn I could see the squirrels and chipmunks (and even a couple of skunks) sitting in the lawn. Eerily staring at the door; they seemed to be swaying, almost as if caught up in some liturgical chant that I couldn't hear.
Shakily I turned to the living room and saw the chaos.

Suddenly I looked around and asked myself, "What have I gotten into here?" I can not think of anything to write for this new assignment. I figured this time I could cheat and Google the first line and come up with a story already written. Then there is work and the pressure of working with someone who really want to retire so he is making my life miserable. The pressure has caused an even bigger problem since I am now faced with over eating. I have this rather large stain on my shirt from the drippings of the massive amounts of White Castles I must consume to compensate for the pressure. Now what do I do?. There is Shout, Zout, Tide to Go, Spray and Wash, Wisk, club soda, Clorox and I don't know where to turn. Which stain remover do I use? Should I spray and soak or should I rub it in?. Should I take my shirt off and try to remove the stain that way or just attempt to clean it while it is on my body. There is also the question of what to do with all the cardboard containers from the White Castles. Can they still be recycled with the tiny onion bits still clinging to the sides of the container? I don't know if I should carefully remove each onion bit before throwing the containers away. I'm really not sure if the containers should be collapsed prior to disposing them. It is a rough life and I have a headache but I don't know which pain reliever to use.

Suddenly I looked around and asked myself, "What have I gotten into here?" I joined this Yahoo group and they are MAKING me write stuff. You would think I was still in the dreaded high school composition class............

Suddenly I looked around and asked myself, "What have I gotten into here?"
I was locked out of my house, in my underwear, and it was raining. From inside the house I could hear the phone ringing. It was the phone call of a lifetime and I was unable to answer it. I scanned the surrounding neighborhood to see if anyone was viewing my current predicament. Satisfied that I was completely alone, I dashed from the front porch around the side of the house to attempt to climb in the side window. As I reached the window and struggled to push open the apparently locked window, my heart sunk as I saw the familiar red and blue strobe flashing lights. "How am I going to explain this one?" I thought to myself. As gracefully as I could - in my underwear, I composed myself and turned to face the police officer.

Suddenly I looked around and asked myself, "What have I gotten into here?"
The walls were wet and slimy like the inside of a cave or a colon. Not that I had every been inside of a colon, in fact I had never actually been inside of a cave, but if I had been inside of either, I am certain this is what they would have felt like.I ran my hand over the walls feeling for a light switch. Once again I had never heard of a cave or a colon having a light switch, but having never been in either it was possible. Surprisingly the slime was not coming off of the walls. In fact my hand was not even getting wet from touching it. This was strange. And while I did not truly know what a cave or a colon felt like, I did know what strange felt like and this was most definitely it.I slapped the wall and watched in the low light as it wiggled like Jell-o. I also took in the rich sound the slap had made and that had echoed back. I wonder if these walls are edible? I stuck my face close and took a deep sniff trying to discern a flavor. Nothing. I stuck my tongue out tentatively, deciding whether to give the wall a lick or not. On the one hand it could taste like strawberry kiwi. On the other hand it could taste like colon... or lime.

Suddenly I looked around and asked myself, "What have I gotten into here?"
I'm no writer. I don't even pretend to be one. And now these folks want me to write? The only writing I've ever done was a little bit of erotic fiction but even that wasn't very good. Damn, now I've got to figure out what to write. And I have to do it on a deadline? I don't like pressure!!! What the hell am I going to write about? I need some inspiration!!! I wonder if I can find a few women to send me some pictures to provide me some inspiration. Oh wait...these folks might not like that type of writing. I'm in trouble now!!!!

Compilation of First Sentences and Sig Lines

After discussing and kicking around various ideas for a First Sentence for starting our next "telephone story" - Our wonderful compiler Misty pulled out all the suggestions for a first sentence (some tongue-in-cheek) and various sig-lines into this wonderful mash of prose.

Sentences & Sig-Lines
By ExquisiteCorpse-Spoilers; Compiled by: Misty

I'll all for either idea, so long as I'm not the collector, or in a position of obligation or responsibility.
Will this story then only have beginnings.. no middle or no end?
The first will be where we all use the same sentence. We could start it now.. Who wants to come up with a sentence? Or should we come up with some and then vote in a poll?
We can't use that, because it is a little too meta.
Either one sounds great to me
Sarcasm is the refuge of losers..
Every morning now as I drink my Iced Latte I can't help wondering about the pus and blood content! But I just keep sipping through my straw.
As soon as beauty is sought not from religion and love, but for pleasure, it degrades the seeker.
It wasn't that I wanted to beat myself up, but I was tired, delusional,and really sick of how straight my nose was. It was time for a change..She said he had sex once but was drunk and didn't remember how to do it..
Reject a woman, and she will never let it go. One of the many defects of their kind. Also, weak arms.She explained to the mechanic that it wasn't her fault, the Snoopy did it.
Suddenly I looked around and asked myself, "What have I gotten into here?" I didn't really expect an answer because I was pretty sure that I didn't know. Still there was that nagging moment of doubt where I thought perhaps I did know, but I was just being superior and refusing to tell me. I can be such a prick sometimes.Why does God get all the credit when something good happens? Where is he when the heart stops?
It was a dark stormy night.
He was a dark and stormy knight. It was an ill-lit and windy dark time.
There seemed to be some sort of precipitation in the air.... Either that..or I was just sweating a lot. The sky looked and sounded like a flock of flatulent vultures eyeing a prize bit of roadkill.It had legs and these eyes sticking up on these stalks. Oh and corn.
Then life must be utopia for words*, since they can experience the thrill of victory, without the agony of de feet with the exception of words like "excrement", because I don't imagine it has a good life at all. Just imagine trying to get a date with a name like "excrement"
Doing stuff is overrated. Like Hitler. He did a lot. But don't we all wish he woulda just stayed home and gotten stoned?
Hopefully the rain will stop there, and the human harvest can proceed... dryly.

The Telephone Story...

That isn't really the name of the story.. I think it has no name.
This might be the piece we are currently the most proud of.
The idea: Someone writes a paragraph (or whatever) and sends it off list to
the next person. That person writes their share and sends it off.
It didn't matter if they wrote one sentence or one paragraph. Everyone
had input.. It was sort of like the old Child's game of Telephone- hence
the title.

Here it is..

Untitled Telephone Story
By: Susan, Melissa, Doghouse, D.A., J. Elizabeth, Brian, Misty, Anne, Colleen, Jo, Sue, & Garvis


When he heard the car pull in the driveway, his first
instinct was to turn off the lights and act like he
wasn't home. Maybe if he was lucky it was just a car
caught going the wrong direction and needing to turn
around.

Unfortunately, he didn't hear it pull out or see the
headlights do so. That meant that she was here. After
all he had called her. It was time to deal with it
all. Of course it would be easy for her as she lived
for confrontation. He tended to want to flee as fast
as he could at the thought of confrontation.

It was too late, as he heard footsteps on the walk.
The click click click of her high heeled shoes. When
the knock came to the door, he froze. When the second
knock came he stood up slowly…

So what if she was an attorney…and his wife…make that
soon to be ex-wife. He was a man who could take care
of himself, contrary to popular belief. Of course,
that didn't explain his sudden urge to run, or find a
blankie to clutch, or scream for his mommy.

The third knock sounded louder, more impatient…a rapid
series of tap, tap, taps against the wood. "I know
you're in there! Now open this door!"

Taking a deep breath, he reached for the knob and
turned it slowly. Not wanting to appear as timid as he
felt, Wesley swung the door open wide and put on his
best fake smile. "Hello Lilah, your bellow never
ceases in brightening my day."
______________________________

_______________________________

"Shut up, Wesley, you know why I'm here so save your
smarmy little smile for your girlfriends and let's
just get to the point, shall we?"

Wesley felt the blood rush from his head to his lower
extremities as panic welled inside him. My
girlfriends? Did she know, or was she just being smug
in that special way of hers, he wondered. No, she
couldn't know, no one could know because he was too
careful.

He'd always been careful. Even when he was courting
Lilah he was always careful. He dropped his smile,
suddenly more concerned with standing upright and
stopping the shaking in his knees than trying to put
on a good face. "What do you want, Lilah? I was just
getting ready to go out and run some errands.

"Yes, I'm sure you have "errands", Wesley, you ALWAYS
have errands, don't you?"

"What?"

"Don't give me that, Wesley. You know exactly what I'm
talking about."

She knew. She had to know. Oh God, it couldn't be
happening like this. The planning, the careful
planning, it was impossible for her to know, so what
was going on here? Wait, it WAS impossible, wasn't it?

Wesley suddenly didn't know anything anymore. His
heart was beating a hard, steady rhythm in his chest
and he felt a cold line of sweat start to develop on
his brow. Indecision welled within him as he turned
and slowly stepped toward the end table next to the
couch, the couch he and Lilah had made love on so many
times after watching a particularly good episode of
Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

"Where are you going, Wesley?"

His body started to calm as he made his decision.
"W...what?"

"I said where are you going?"

"I'm not going anywhere. It's you who's going
somewhere, Lilah dear."

With those ominous words Wesley reached for the end
table, and Lilah reached into her purse...

Meanwhile, across town a seemingly unrelated incident
was beginning to take place.

"You are one damaged goods sister!" Meredith shrieked
as she dove across the table, lunging for Jessica's
throat. Jessica threw herself backwards to avoid the
enraged woman.

"Stop it and listen to reason"

"I'll show you reason you harpy!"

"I'm not the enemy. I'm not the one that...hurt you."

Meredith let out an enraged shriek and charged again.
How much longer could Jessica hold out?

She was beginning to grow weary of this game. All of
the women she was forced to tell that it was over with
Wesley, they all reacted the same way. No amount of
money was worth this. Jessica needed to get out of
this. But how?

As Meredith charged at her again, Jessica knew. She
side-stepped Meredith, letting her go face first into
the wall. Meredith turned around with pure hatred in
her face.

Jessica just smiled.

Meredith had never felt rage like this, and she wasn't
sure if it was the anger, or the head injury from her
collision with the wall, or even the liter of vodka
she just drank, but black spots started to form before
her eyes, and she began to lose consciousness.

When she awoke, she was in bed in an unfamiliar room.
She tried to sit up, but quickly realized that she was
tied to the bed with what appeared to be leather
straps. Deep down, she knew she should probably panic,
but her body simply wouldn't respond. From
this position, all she could move was her head, which
slowly turned around at the sound of the door
unlatching, and a man in a white coat entered.

"Who the hell are you?", she screamed, or at least
tried to scream, but the words simply drooled out the
side of her mouth lethargically, "Did Jessica put you
up to this?"

The man spoke calmly in what could only be a very
practiced comforting tone, "I'm Doctor Horowitz,
Meredith, and you've been brought here so that I can
help you."

"Let me go!" she slurred, "If Jessica finds me here,
I'm done for!"

"Meredith," he said in that same calm, patient voice,
"Jessica doesn't exist."
______________

"So why am I here and who brought me here", Meredith
inquired.

"You were brought here by Wesley", Dr. Horowitz
replied. "He noticed your mental state was
deteriorating and was fearful you would reveal your
affair with him to Lilah." "He is plotting to inherit
quite a large sum of money from Lilah's life insurance
after her untimely and unfortunate death and he did
not want you to get in his way".

Meredith began to shake uncontrollably in fear for
what was about to happen. "What do you intend to do to
me", Meredith quivered.

"I have given you a very powerful amnesiac drug. You
will not remember this conversation or any of your
past from this moment on". "Oh, and we also harvested
your
left kidney."

"Why does my mouth hurt so bad?" Meredith inquired.

"We also planted a microchip in your back molar and it
will track your whereabouts. If you come with 50 feet
of Wesley, you will be shocked by a defibrillator type
of device planted in your brain".

Without another word, the doctor turned and left the
room, locking the door gain. Meredith struggled to get
free from the restraints, but felt the blackness
overtake her again.
_____________________________________________

She was moving through a fog. She heard voices, but
couldn't make out what they were saying. She turned
her head, trying to discern the direction. Her whole
body felt heavy like it was made of lead. As the fog
started to clear, the voices got closer.

"And she doesn't remember *anything*?" one voice said,
male with a soft timber and a British accent.

"Nothing. It's all gone," another male voice answered.

She fought her way through the fog, trying to find the
men, needing to know what was happening.

"Doctor, I think she's waking up," a soft female voice
said.

She felt a hand on her face. "Mara, darling. Can you
hear me?" the British voice pleaded. "Please open your
eyes."

"Who's Mara?" she asked, groggily. Her mouth felt like
it was full of cotton. She started to open her eyes
but the light hurt too much.

"You're Mara," British voice answered. "I'm William
and you're my wife."

Bright light or not, she needed to see his face. She
opened her eyes again and discovered she was lying on
a hospital bed. There was a man sitting on the edge of
the bed, stroking her cheek. He was attractive...if
you like librarians. He did look familiar, but...

"Are you sure?" she asked him. "I don't feel married."

Meanwhile, back on the other side of town, Lilah took
an envelope from her purse. No matter how hard she
denied it, she really was sorry to see her
relationship with Wesley disintegrating. She wished
that they could have a normal life together, although
that would never happen. But sometimes, in the middle
of the night, when she woke up sad and alone, she
dreamed. She dreamed at times when the heavens were
dark and her hopes were high, but every time, light
broke the illusion.

He knew the gang was horrified at his relationship
with Lilah, but they weren't his group anymore, so why
did they care? Why did he care? Oh, but he did care.
Cared so much. They had been his friends, his
partners. He wanted to be back with them...especially
with Fred. He supposed that psychologically, Lilah was
a replacement for her, not like he couldn't have
chosen a woman more opposite from Fred. He really
needed to get over Fred, the only woman he ever truly
loved, but he just couldn't. She was unlike the
others, especially Meredith, who he just could not get
rid of no matter how hard he tried. He pushed her out
of his mind because at this very moment, she was being
taken care of. His interest in Fred had dwindled,
until the other day when she had come to him asking
for help. Reminded him of everything he had loved
about her. No matter how convincing Lilah thought she
was, Wesley could tell she was jealous. It was sort of
funny, in a twisted sort of way.

"It's time we ended this, Lilah," Wesley says, picking
up a file from his desk.

"I agree," Lilah says.

Fred was raised as a boy. Fred's Dad wanted to have
the all American kid who was the star baseball player.
But as long as Fred could remember he felt like he
wanted to be a little girl. Sugar and spice and
everything nice.
After the trauma of growing up a boy Fred met Wesley
at a bar. They became good friends, very good friends.
Wesley helped Fred discover his real self. The woman
named Fred was out of the shell and ready to discover
the world as a woman. Wesley and Fred developed a very
deep and personal relationship.
--
---------------------------

Mara looked up at William. She tried to place his
face. If he was her husband she should be able to
remember him. She concentrated as best she could.
The lights were still amazingly bright. And the pings
and beeps and whistles seemed to keep her off balance.
She looked around at the walls of her hospital room.
They were white, bright white, plain white. She
sniffed the air. Fresh white. These walls had just
been painted. But if the walls had just been painted,
why did they have patients in here?

Mara stared back at William’s face. It did look
familiar, but not in the husbandly way. She tried to
remember him placing a ring on her finger or handing
her a rose or over top of her as they made love.
Wait. Something clicked. She could remember his face
over top of her. His jaw thrust out as he pressed in.
She could see the sweat and the concentration on his
face and she could feel the pressure. The pressure of
his body on hers, his hands pressing in tight on her
throat trying to kill her. A light finally broke in
Meredith’s brain. She wasn’t Mara, this man wasn’t
her husband and this was most definitely not a real
hospital.

Across town another revelation was taking place as
Wesley stared at the file in his hands. He began
smoothing out his fingernails with it and staring at
the envelope in Lilah’s hand. “So, what’s in the
envelope?”

“It’s the divorce papers, Wesley. You need to sign
them,” Lilah said as she opened the envelope and
removed the papers. “In the settlement you admit to
having numerous mistresses, infidelity and mental
cruelty. With the terms of our pre-nup, that means
you get nothing, but out of the kindness of my heart,
I will allow you to keep this.” Lilah motioned at the
house they were currently inhabiting.

“Now Lilah dear, why would I ever consent to that?”
Wesley asked nervously, the file zipping side to side
as he continued to work on his nails. “Mistresses?
Infidelity? That’s all in your mind. You grew bored
with me and started looking for darker thrills.
You’re the one that began sleeping around and not very
discreetly I might add. You have no proof that I’ve
ever been unfaithful to you, but I have photos of you.
And video. I can show multiple instances of
infidelity and many of them occurring all at the same
time.” Wesley stopped filing his nails and looked
straight at Lilah’s eyes. “You know, Lilah, I really
didn’t realize how limber a person had to be to take
on four men and another woman all at the same time.
And I didn’t even know you were ambidextrous.”

Lilah stared at Wesley, unsure of what he was talking
about. She had never stepped out of the bonds of
their marriage and she wasn’t ambidextrous either.
Her sister had been the lucky one there. She stared
at Wesley. Suddenly she understood his gamut. Her
sister. Her identical twin sister. That had to be
the answer. Wesley had found out she was planning to
divorce him, leave him with nothing, and he had conned
her estranged and unbalanced sister into helping him.
“You bastard.” she hissed at him. “You don’t have
pictures of me. You have pictures of my sister! You
have pictures of Jessica!”

Wesley sat the nail file down on the desk. “Now Lilah
dear, that would be impossible. It’s like Dr.
Horowitz explained to you. You don’t have a sister.
Jessica doesn’t exist.”

Another Poem

Somehow in the middle of our confusing death sentence Poem...
another was started:

(Of course none of us have ever used, seen or heard of any illegal substance
that might have accidentally gotten mentioned in this poem)

Is this poem in first person? Third person?
Don't know, ask Elle McPherson
But I'm scared, she is so fearsome.
(I hope to this fear I don't succumb)
(But at this point, I just feel numb)
(Have you tried therapy? Like banging on a drum?)
(Or maybe cracked open a good bottle of rum?)

But I don't drink, and can't percuss
So why should I bother with raising a fuss
I'll ask for your mercy, I'll beg and I'll plead?
Oh, so you think that your begging will get what you need?
If I don't beg, will you make me bleed?
No, but in my mind, you planted a seed.
Well, share with us this plan, don't hold back, no greed!
But as long as you're sharing - got any weed?
I'm in Canada, Of course in deed!
Now I'm so high, I've got a munchies need
(pssst) come here, uh, need any speed?
I'll take whatever, I'll follow your lead.
Even if I wanna go swimming in a Speed? Oh!
I'd close my eyes, and just scream "no!"

Did you lose your lights with all that fresh snow?
No, but that blizzard sure did blow.

A poem

It started with a line from a poem that I wrote many moons ago.. and
it turned into something a bit wacky.. and a lot weird. Pretty much,
everyone just added a line...


As they take me slowly to the chair
I hope I'm in clean underwear
'Cause things might get messy down there
No mirrors, quick - how's my hair?

I sure hope no one's going to stare.
But let them speak their words if they dare.
Is that the governor on the phone there?
I've lost my towel and now I'm bare!
To die like this, just isn't fair
In the fiery spiral of a vortex called despair
With my honey horn in a state of rigid flare
Because the executioner looks so debonair
But I'm a guy, so why should I care?
how I wish I was at the Iowa State Fair
would this be his last prayer
He won the blue ribbon with his white Mare.
Right before that hippy called him a square.

Killing him is what put him there.
I shouldn't have told him to cut his hair
Still grossed out by that movie by Linda Blair
So much so, he just didn't care.

But I had to take that dare
I should've sprayed his head with Nair.
I'm laughing so hard that I need some air.
Too bad it is so smokey in here.

Must be from the tattoo I got of the bear...on my derriere.

For a week after that I couldn't sit on a chair

But I hope with a picture of her bum she soon will share!

Alas, I'll be dead before that picture could get here.

Dorcas Goodvoiceflute..

Sometimes stories just never get finished... they just seem to fade away...
Poor Dorcas seemed to be one of those...

I have been thinking about firing myself, but things would get confusing
when I would have to do the phone interview with the unemployment
office and would have to work both sides of the story. Obviously a
raise is a much better idea.

====

But imagine the fun you could have giving yourself a reference when you go looking for a new job!

====

"She is Spectacular! I don't think we have ever had an employee like her. Always on time. Never called in sick. Always bright and chipper. Worth so much more than we could ever pay here. If it was possible I would triple her salary but alas, I can do nothing to persuade her from trying to get what she is truly worth in the market place"

"She does sound amazing. For the record can I get your name again?"

"Ah.. well... ah.... okay. Ah... Dorcas."

"And the last name?"

"ah... well.... Goodvoiceflute. Yes, Dorcas Goodvoiceflute"

====

"You mean the Dorcas Goodvoiceflute that murdered my parents and has
been a fugitive from the law ever since?"

Be careful, what are the odds that there are *2* Dorcas
Goodvoiceflute's?

====

As soon as he heard the name he knew his question was irrelevant, but he had to ask it just the same. No, there was no chance of there ever being two Dorcas Goodvoiceflutes in this, or any other, world. He'd waited a long time for this day and the joy of finally tracking her down washed over him like like tiny electric pinpricks. He pushed the button on his Acme Auto-Reverse 2000 Caller ID and watched as her name appeared on the display followed seconds later by what he'd been waiting a lifetime for: her address.

"Gotcha", he thought.

====

Dorcas let out a sigh. She couldn't believe her luck. After twelve years on the run. Twelve long years. For the first four she had tried a name as easy and common as Susan Scott, and life had been good until UPS tracked her down and started sending her boxes of toys meant for some other Susan Scott. If UPS could track her down, then so could they. That was the last thing she needed. Them. So then she became Hortence Cumberpatch. For eight years the name had served her well. But now she had slipped. She meant to tell that "employment verification" person that she was Hortence, but Dorcas slipped out. It had been twelve long years since she used that name. Twelve long years. Why now? Why now? How could she have slipped?

====

She was a confused mix of emotions. One the one hand, she couldn't
help but feel a little relieved after living a lie for so many years.
Day after day she feared that someone would find out, that someone must
know, and the resulting paranoia was wearing her down. Now her secret
was out, and she felt a brief rush of euphoria at the sudden release.

On the other hand, she had grown into the name Hortence Cumberpatch,
and for some reason the name drove men wild. Her social life had never
been more active, and she worried that they might lose interest if she
were just another Sarah or Jane. But now she couldn't go back to
Dorcas, and she couldn't stay with Hortence. She was at an unexpected
crossroads, one she had hoped she'd never have to face.

"Just who am I, anyway?"

====

, she asked herself as she hurriedly tossed clothes into a battered old travel case.

"I haven't used this case since . . . well, for twelve years, I guess", she joked to her reflection in the mirror as she grabbed her brush and some jewelry.

Closing the travel case and making a quick scan of the room her eyes stopped on a slip of paper perched on the edge of her nightstand. She slowly walked over, fearful of what she knew all too well she was about to find. She reached down and picked up the well read pamphlet and turned it over in her hands and the evening light through the blinds caught the title and drew her attention and she read the title aloud.

"John Wayne’s 100th Birthday with the Centennial Celebration".

As president of the local Cowby Music Singers Association she'd be expected to not only be at the celebration, but to make the keynote address. How would she explain her absence?

====

As "I'm an ol' Cow-hand, From the Rio Grande" played in her head, she

hummed along and looked at the pamplet. Then over at the bus ticket

in her other hand. She thought.... and hummed.

Winterset is 40 minutes away. Could it provide the cover she was needing, or would the very knowledge that Hortence Cumberpatch was in town drive

all the "men folk" crazy and blow her cover. There were options to consider. She could leave Des Moines and make a fresh start. Find another name that drives men crazy. Mable Hotsenpepper maybe? Or she could stay here and suffer the consequences. And now the new choice. Head for Winterset, have a few "date" nights, then read the speech and get the heck out of Dodge.. or Winterset.. or maybe Iowa all together. The more she thought about it, the more the choice was obvious. A few "date nights" never hurt anyone. Maybe do two or three in one night.... She dropped the bus ticket, grabbed her bag, and walked out the door....

Webber I'm Right

This group had humble beginnings.. a little bit of fan fic that
started out on another email list. So here is the work that
started it all...

Part One: Webber I'm Right

Meredith and Derek break up over an elective spinal surgery gone wrong.
Searching for answers Meredith turns to her father who tells her that
he is too busy with his family,especially his ill granddaughter to deal 
with her problems at the moment. "call me tomorrow" he tells her.

Not knowing what to do.. or who to turn to, Meredith runs in to Chief
Webber. He gives her the most
valuable of information: Don't let medicine and men make you are hardened
as your mother. Find what
you need in life and go after it. That night, Meredith, Izzy, George
and newly single and new roommate
Cristina plot Meredith's new life focus "Get on with it" They called this
new life plan.

Part Two: Or Webber I'm Wrong.

Meredith seems to have the whole word at her feet. She is single and
together. What her friends do not know
is that she is slowly falling back into that world of slutty bar
pick-ups that she was once famous for.
When George discovers Meredith in her room with 2 guys, an
intervention is called for. Once again, she seems
on track. Then one night she is at Joe's. Having fun. Downing
shots with McSteamy, playing pool with
Karev, darts with some hottie she just met. Life isn't on
track after all.... Then she looks up and sees
Derek walk in the door (in slow motion) and behind him
(in super slowmo) is the chief.

Fade to black.

Fade to light. Hotel room. Meredith looks around, pulls her
hair back... she can't seem to remember
who she left the bar with... Then the bathroom door opens and
Chief Webber walks out in only his
boxer shorts.

Fade to black. End Credits

====

LOL, I love it! Of course, it will paint them into a bit
of a corner with the season finale, so the next season opener,
"Stormy Webber", will involve the discovery
of a tumor in Meredith's brain that is causing her to confuse
herself with her mother. It will be
said that Derek is the only one skilled enough to perform the
surgery, but upset at losing Meredith
to Webber he has taken leave and can't be located.

George tries to convince Christina that she is qualified to
operate,and just when she finally agrees, Derek returns to
save the day. But, wait, who is that beautiful
woman with him?

====

Could that woman be...... Camille? The Chief's niece,
now in remission, and suddenly a little older
and wiser than she was at her "prom".

====


More importantly: Where's the Chief?

====

After his escapades in the season finale with you-know-who,
he might be hoarding the penicillin and
trying to keep a low profile.

====

Maybe Karev wasn't patient zero in the syph epidemic after all??

====

Next week on Grey's Anatomy - - In "Sorry about that, Chief",
a dismayed nurse Olivia shares her
test results with an equally shocked Chief Webber.
Izzi bakes chocolate chip mini-muffins.

====

While eating one of Izzy's muffins, Bailey figures it all
out, and hires a contractor to come in and
plaster up the doorways to all On Call room and storage
rooms. She informs the Chief of her plan
and then says "Disgusting" under her breath as she walks
away. Chief smiles, pulls something out
of his pocket.. black  & lacy.. and says "Oh Miranda..."
Fade to Black, Roll Credits.

====

The Chief, flowers in hand, and armed with the knowledge
that Tucker is back in the hospital with
a "mysterious" recurrence of his earlier brain trauma
poises himself to knock on Miranda's door, his
mind his mind firmly fixated on her va-jay-jay.

The Chief knocks and the door opens slightly. He leans
and slowly peers through the crack.
The lights are off inside, but he can see just enough
to make out something black and lacy.
Something that matches the memento clutched in his
pocket. The door opens more, his eyes
adjust and begin to focus. He blinks and as he clutches
his chest and crumples to the ground
he screams, "Karev, what are...?!?"

<>

====

The ambulance reaches Seattle Grace Hospital,
Karev tightens the belt
on his trench coat a little tighter. Bailey meets
the ambulance in the bay
and asks Karev what he is doing with the Chief.
Karev mumbles something
and then starts giving her the vitals.

Once in exam room three, most of our cast is
gathered around the chief
working on him, though they are all really wondering
why Karev won't remove his trench coat.
As Karev turns to grab another bag of "O" neg the
buckle on the trench belt catches on
something and the trench slides open.. just as
Bailey looks up. He has on nothing but black
lacy women's "undergarments"

"What the hell? Karev is that my ........." she
cuts herself off. She takes a
deep breath "Get out Karev, Get out of here now".

====

Karev felt the heat rise in his cheeks and hoped
none of his peers noticed his embarrassment,
or his questionable choice in women's undergarments.

"Am I a bad person just because I like the feel of soft
nylon against my skin during my off hours?",
he thought to himself.

Karev handed the bag of "O" neg to Izzie, turned and
walked out the door hearing the sounds of
the team working feverishly to save the Chief's life.
The door to exam room three closed behind
him and he leaned against the wall and hung his head
hopelessly lost in feelings of despair.
Choking back the tears he knew he wanted to shed, but
couldn't, he heard the exam room door
open, but didn't look up to face what he assumed was the
inevitable reprimand from Bailey.

"Hi there", said George. "Wanna talk?"

====

"You know O'Malley, there isn't anything you could possibly
say to me to make this less embarrassing"
Karev said, with the Karev sneer planted firmly on
his face.

"I couldn't? Remember me? I slept with Meredith!
She cried while we had sex!"

Karev shook his head and punched George in the shoulder
"You don't get it do you? I have on Bailey's bra!"

"Do you like Bailey?" George asks,. innocently.

====

Karev smacks George in the shoulder harder, "No! I
don't "like" Bailey"... He pauses, and smacks
George again in the shoulder "I want to be Bailey"
he practically yells.

Suddenly Bailey's voice yells from the Exam room "You two,
get out of here! Get away from my
exam room"

Karev punches George in the shoulder again. George punches
him back except lighter. Karev
punches back... but lighter. Suddenly they look into
each other's eyes, the light punching has
turned to gentle tapping.
"I think you fill that bra out nicely" George barely whispers
Karev looks deeply into George's deep brown eyes,
"Meet me in the on call room...stat"
George nods and steps quietly backwards.

Bailey screams "Get the hell away from my exam room!"

====

George turns and starts to walk to the on call room,
barely able to hide the excitement evident
on both his face and in other areas. He pulls his
smock closer.

"Hello, O'Malley"

"Oh, hello, Dr. Burke. How's the tre . . ."

"What?", says Burke.

"What?", says Cristina.

"What?", says George.

"What were you about to say, O'Malley?"

"Uh, nothing, uh, I was just wondering how the
tre . . . tre . . . treble sounded on that new Eugene
Foote CD I bought you."

"Very good, O'Malley, very good. Yang and I are taking a
stroll down to the cafeteria, would you
care to join us?"

"No, thank you, Dr. Burke. I'm meeting Karev to explore,
er, to examine, uh, to go over some case
notes and I'm late now."

"Very well, O'Malley."

"Did you see what I saw, Preston?"

"What was that, Cristina?"

"I don't know, but either that was the largest stethoscope
 I've ever seen in George's smock, or he
was certainly happy to see me!"

"It's always about you, isn't it?"

"Not always, Burke, not always. And what was that all
about, you haven't listened to a Eugene Foote
CD since he was lost in the OR. Are you hiding something?
If you're hiding something I should know
because I'm your girlfriend and you shouldn't hide anything
from your girlfriend.", said Cristina
between gulps of super caffeinated coffee as she and Burke
continued down the hall toward the
cafeteria.

"No, I'm not hiding anything, Yang.", Burke said, becoming
more annoyed. "When will you realize
that it's not always about you? I'm worrying about my career
and my position here and I can't
always compensate and cover for your emotional shortcomings!"

====

"I don't have time for this today" Cristina said in a huff
and walked away.

Burke watched her walk down the hallway... he leaned
against the wall and a small smile came
to his face...

(Fade in eerie flashback music.....)

Burke flashes back.... as his smile grows larger.

"O'Malley" he called out loudly as he enters the Doctors locker room.

Only the sound of a shower running is heard.

Burke takes off his scrub top, and opens up a locker room.

A faint sound of George singing in the shower is now heard.
Burke smiles and grabs a towel...

He steps into the shower and sees two shadows. He pulls back the curtain.
It's O'malley and he is scrubbing Chief Webber's back.

"Preston" Webber says, "You know how you much you would like my job
when I retire?"

Preston nods... a little shocked by what he is seeing....

Webber smiles "Then grab that other Loofah and help O'Malley
with my back. I need some heavy duty exfoliating".

(Eerie flashback music fades back in and then out)

Back to real time.

Burke leans up, wide smile on his face and mumbles to
himself "That was one promotion I didn't
mind working it for" And he heads on down the hall...
 with a little skip in his step.

====

"Wow, I've never really noticed how bright and cheerful the
hallways are here at Seattle Grace",
Burke thought to himself as he basked in the afterglow of
his memory. "So many memories, so many
*good* memories and what am I doing? I spend my energy on
my career and never stop and pay
attention to the important things in life. Maybe I should
just hang up my smock and . . ."

"Hey, Dr. Burke"

"Wha? Oh, Karev, how are you"?

"Fine sir, are you alright? You were smiling like I've
never seen you smile before."

"Yes, Karev, I'm fine. I'm just recalling a less stressful
time is all. I'm sure you can relate."

"Yes, sir."

"Are you still working with Dr. Sloan?"

"No, sir, I'm actually going to meet George."

"O'Malley? I just saw him a few minutes ago. What's going on?"

"Oh, uh, nothing, sir. We were just gonna brush up on some
procedure is all."

"I see, well then, carry on, Karev. Karev, is it just my
imagination, or are you wearing Addison Shephard's panties?"

"No, they're actually Dr. Bailey's panties and dammit, I'm
not ashamed to admit it."

"That's alright, Karev, you have nothing to be ashamed about."

"Uh, Dr. Burke, would you like to join George and I?"

====

Burke smiled, "Karev... I could just ki...." he was
interrupted by his ringing
cell phone. "I'll meet you both there" Burke said
and flipped his phone open.
"Burke" he said.

"Preston" It was Adele Webber. "We need to talk"

"I can't. Not now. I am about to scrub in for a
triple bypass"

"Don't lie Preston." She said. "We have a deal. I want my
husband back
and you want to be chief of surgery. If I remember right,
you said you would
do anything... anything,... sex, lies, blackmail.
Murder. Murder, Preston.
Do you recall saying that? Murder?"

"I know what I said" Burke said, sharply, under his breath.

"Well then, now that you have all you need for the
blackmail part of the
scheme, I think it is time we move on to the murder
part. Be at my house
tonight at 8pm... and we will discuss who you are
taking out.  Got it.

Burke didn't respond. He just flipped the phone closed.
How could a day
start so right and go so wrong.....

====

As soon as he disconnected the phone Burke knew that
Adelle's call had put his plans with Bailey
and Karev on hold. If he wasn't careful how he
proceeded from here, those plans might be on hold
forever. He walked outside, pulled the collar of his
smock up to provide some protection from the
rain and wind and lit a cigarette.

How could a day start so right and go so wrong,
he asked himself again.

Burke knew his options were limited. Sure, he could
turn on Adelle, maybe even bring in the cops,
but where would that leave him? Her influence was too
far-reaching and mugs like him who jumped
into the witness protection program often had a knack of
turning up on a cold slab in the morgue.
There was also Cristina to consider. He'd been alone all
these years for a reason and now that he'd
finally decided to open up to another human being there was
no telling how Adelle might use that
relationship as leverage against him. No, he couldn't put
Cristina through that. He wouldn't put
Cristina through that.

Turning on Adelle was out of the question.

Bringing in the cops was out of the question.

Blowing smoke on the glowing ember of his cigarette he
thought back to how he got to where
he was today, how he beat all the odds to become a
successful surgeon on the brink of realizing
his lifelong dream of becoming Chief of Surgery of a
major hospital. He was almost there, close
enough to touch it. He realized he really only
had one option. Fingering the snub nosed .38 in his
pocket he knew he'd have to meet Adelle and find
out exactly what it was she wanted and then
improvise.