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Rob was always at the top. It didn’t matter if he was cornering the market for all that it’s worth on the umpteenth floor of some ginormous sky scraper or if he was riding high at the top of a triple decker bus; Rob was always a rung above the rest.
Uptight business men were always nipping at his heels, trying to be him, while the wealthy in the wings abhorred him; It didn’t matter to Rob.
But Rob wasn’t all about his wealth and success. It’s hard to believe that someone in such an elevated state as he would be so down to earth. Money didn’t impress him. He knew his success was a gift and did not take it for granted. Instead of falling into the extravagance, he enjoyed the little things, like snacking on pretzels and riding through town enjoying the giant geometrically shaped skyscrapers.
While enjoying the impressive architecture, Jones contemplated the cheerlessness that accompanied the Grunbahn family’s acquisition of wealth.
Peter, the baby of the family, was given all he asked for and could still produce an impressive tantrum when neccessity required. Unfortunately, w/ Peter’s low IQ, self absorbtion, and obsession with all things twisted, he never managed to enjoy the great views provided him.
Heinrich, the misanthropic German leader in luxury double and triple decker automobiles, had always avoided his children, and was grateful for the continued peace and quiet his Drei Decker EX afforded him. Though less repugnant than the rest of the Grunbahn family, his perpetual application of mustache wax could be quite unsettling.
Anika, w/ her steely attitude and blase air was the coldest of them all, caring only for Adolf, her over-indulged chihuahua. Many, including Jones, believe Adolf buried the evidence from her third husband’s disappearance.
As Jones chaufeurred the Grunbahns to The Siebenschläfer Festival, and pondered these things, he thanked God that he was not one of them.
Ralph had been driving the death coach for 17 years. Every wrinkle on his downtrodden face came from that which he was an accomplice to. On the first Saturday of every month Ralph drove three people to the chamber of doom. All three would enter, but only one would exit. With every fight to the death Ralph carried the pain of the victims. Today was no different.
In the top chamber was Kyle Martin, an all-american football player turned cage fighter. He was a seasoned veteran, fit and trained. Ralph knew Kyle was the favorite in today’s match.
Below him was Munster Von Munster. Ralph knew little about the man other than the German grumbling he heard when the man boarded, but there was something unsettling about him. His eyes were those of a killer.
Finally there was Sasha Klipner and her killer Chihuahaha. All though she had never been convicted, most intelligent people agreed that Sasha was behind the massive Chihuahaha killing at last year’s Westminster Dog Show. The authorities could never prove it, but when she was the only remaining trainer, people began to talk.
On the long trek over Ralph tried not to think too much. Over his career he’d learned not to develop an emotional bond with his passengers. It was difficult not to on the five minute drive across town, and heck, psychopathic killers make some great conversation, but Ralph held back. The death coach would not remember it’s occupants, and neither would Ralph.
Harold, the oldest son of the Lady who lived in the shoe, tired of broth and wanting some bread, sick of being whipped and sent to bed; left home in search of his own identity, the joys and freedoms of self-sufficiency. He applied and was hired at the QuickShoe Cab Company. “Let Our Shoes Do The Walking!” Harold was not oblivious to the irony of his podiatary life, but who would have guessed Nancy Sinatra would be his wife?
You can start calling these things “caption collectives” once I’ve won a Wally Award! I’m joking, sarcasm’s a little tough to pull off in type . I just enjoy writing silly stories, and reading everyone’s entries. Thanks for the inspirational outlet.
Hope you and Denise are doing well. Isnt she almost done w/ school/work in SD? She must be so excited. Where to next?
April 11th, 2008 at 11:40 pm
Rob was always at the top. It didn’t matter if he was cornering the market for all that it’s worth on the umpteenth floor of some ginormous sky scraper or if he was riding high at the top of a triple decker bus; Rob was always a rung above the rest.
Uptight business men were always nipping at his heels, trying to be him, while the wealthy in the wings abhorred him; It didn’t matter to Rob.
But Rob wasn’t all about his wealth and success. It’s hard to believe that someone in such an elevated state as he would be so down to earth. Money didn’t impress him. He knew his success was a gift and did not take it for granted. Instead of falling into the extravagance, he enjoyed the little things, like snacking on pretzels and riding through town enjoying the giant geometrically shaped skyscrapers.
April 12th, 2008 at 11:11 pm
Alright my schnuckiputzi, here it is:
While enjoying the impressive architecture, Jones contemplated the cheerlessness that accompanied the Grunbahn family’s acquisition of wealth.
Peter, the baby of the family, was given all he asked for and could still produce an impressive tantrum when neccessity required. Unfortunately, w/ Peter’s low IQ, self absorbtion, and obsession with all things twisted, he never managed to enjoy the great views provided him.
Heinrich, the misanthropic German leader in luxury double and triple decker automobiles, had always avoided his children, and was grateful for the continued peace and quiet his Drei Decker EX afforded him. Though less repugnant than the rest of the Grunbahn family, his perpetual application of mustache wax could be quite unsettling.
Anika, w/ her steely attitude and blase air was the coldest of them all, caring only for Adolf, her over-indulged chihuahua. Many, including Jones, believe Adolf buried the evidence from her third husband’s disappearance.
As Jones chaufeurred the Grunbahns to The Siebenschläfer Festival, and pondered these things, he thanked God that he was not one of them.
April 15th, 2008 at 9:33 pm
Ralph had been driving the death coach for 17 years. Every wrinkle on his downtrodden face came from that which he was an accomplice to. On the first Saturday of every month Ralph drove three people to the chamber of doom. All three would enter, but only one would exit. With every fight to the death Ralph carried the pain of the victims. Today was no different.
In the top chamber was Kyle Martin, an all-american football player turned cage fighter. He was a seasoned veteran, fit and trained. Ralph knew Kyle was the favorite in today’s match.
Below him was Munster Von Munster. Ralph knew little about the man other than the German grumbling he heard when the man boarded, but there was something unsettling about him. His eyes were those of a killer.
Finally there was Sasha Klipner and her killer Chihuahaha. All though she had never been convicted, most intelligent people agreed that Sasha was behind the massive Chihuahaha killing at last year’s Westminster Dog Show. The authorities could never prove it, but when she was the only remaining trainer, people began to talk.
On the long trek over Ralph tried not to think too much. Over his career he’d learned not to develop an emotional bond with his passengers. It was difficult not to on the five minute drive across town, and heck, psychopathic killers make some great conversation, but Ralph held back. The death coach would not remember it’s occupants, and neither would Ralph.
April 17th, 2008 at 2:13 pm
Harold, the oldest son of the Lady who lived in the shoe, tired of broth and wanting some bread, sick of being whipped and sent to bed; left home in search of his own identity, the joys and freedoms of self-sufficiency. He applied and was hired at the QuickShoe Cab Company. “Let Our Shoes Do The Walking!” Harold was not oblivious to the irony of his podiatary life, but who would have guessed Nancy Sinatra would be his wife?
April 18th, 2008 at 8:16 pm
You can start calling these things “caption collectives” once I’ve won a Wally Award!
I’m joking, sarcasm’s a little tough to pull off in type . I just enjoy writing silly stories, and reading everyone’s entries. Thanks for the inspirational outlet.
Hope you and Denise are doing well. Isnt she almost done w/ school/work in SD? She must be so excited. Where to next?
April 19th, 2008 at 10:28 am
Yay!
April 23rd, 2008 at 7:40 pm
did anyone at least get the Nancy Sinatra reference?
May 9th, 2008 at 2:27 pm
This is brilliant!
May 10th, 2008 at 6:56 am
Sure it, I love it!
May 10th, 2008 at 4:24 pm
Awesome!
May 10th, 2008 at 7:46 pm
This sure would cut down on traffic jams!