View Full Version : A Pootie Game - Revived
04-14-2015, 09:59 AM
Gryhnd (in the chat column) thought it would be fun to revive one (or maybe more) of Pootie's games. Annamariah asked, "What kind of games?" I was sure that her games could still be found in the deeper pages of the forum, and sure enough they are there. It nearly broke my heart when I looked at a couple of them. And so, in answer to Gryhnd's request, and so that we might offer Annamariah (and other newer players) a glimpse of just how much of a treasure Pootie was to this site... let's revive one of her games.
So let's start with Pootie's story game. Here's how it worked. Pootie wrote the first line of a story (her's was "It was a hot day in the city"). She posted that line, and the next person playing along would write a post in accordance to this simple rule - you write the next line, and the first word of your line begins with the letter that ended (the last letter of) the line preceding yours (so in the thread that had been started by Pootie, the next line posted needed to start with a "Y" . And so on. A 3rd post is created by someone beginning with the last letter of the 2nd post and so on. Her thread (get ready for this) went 10 pages on the forum, creating its own little story, which was the object of her game. So here we go...
04-14-2015, 10:08 AM
Connie turned off the engine, stepped out of the rusted old Volkswagen, and walked toward the truckstop's restaurant entrance.
04-14-2015, 12:11 PM
"Enough of this," she muttered to herself, reaching for the faux-brass door handle. "I'm going to get some answers."
04-14-2015, 01:07 PM
She entered the dingy place, an aura of grim determination suffused with some trepidation surrounded her.
04-14-2015, 03:06 PM
"randy!" she yelled, "where the hell are you?!"
04-14-2015, 03:07 PM
Raising her eyebrows at the dowdy atmosphere, she headed to the counter at the back.
04-14-2015, 03:21 PM
Knowing he might not answer if she looked too angry, she decided to try and act more calm. She gingerly picked up one of the greasy looking menus.
04-14-2015, 07:07 PM
"So, what do you recommend?" she asked the waitress as she glanced about the dining room.
04-14-2015, 07:19 PM
"meatloaf," said the waitress, looking down over her glasses and popping her gum; "it's the best in town."
04-14-2015, 07:22 PM
"Nice, bring it on," Connie said, slipping into a booth.
04-15-2015, 12:40 AM
Hardly a moment passed before Randy sauntered out from the kitchen, stained apron stretched across his ample gut. "I see you got that old rust-bucket running again", he smirked. "Where you off to this time, Conn?" "Never mind that", she snapped. "I'm asking the questions this time."
04-15-2015, 01:09 AM
Everyone else in the restaurant looked studiously at their menus, pretending that they couldn't overhear this heated conversation between the two of them.
04-15-2015, 07:12 AM
With apologies to puzzleme, I'm going to edit my reply (my "Maine" line doesn't seem to me to be what Connie would say next after what she had just said about "asking the questions." I got too focused on Gryhnd's "M" :)
"Maine! For all I know that's where I'm going if you don't tell me what happened last Saturday, Randy!" Connie stammered. "And don't you worry about my VW bug, it'll get me there just fine! So are you really going to make me ask? Can't you just be honest with me for once and tell me what happened?"
The waitress raised her eyebrows, backed away, noting with a sense of irony that Gimme Three Steps was blasting away on the juke box. "This oughta be good," she thought.
04-15-2015, 08:34 AM
"Take a breath Connie," said Randy, holding up his hands defensively. "Why don't you tell me what you think you know, and I'll fill in the gaps."
04-15-2015, 04:31 PM
She glared at him and said, "Well, I know you haven't been home since Friday afternoon. There's a gap for you, why don't you start there?"
04-15-2015, 05:47 PM
Eyeing the shortest route out of the restaurant, Randy said, "I was working. This place doesn't run itself."
04-16-2015, 01:23 AM
"From where I'm sitting," Connie fumed as she pulled a pistol out of her purse, "both me and this place'd be better off without you at all, you two-timing weasel." Amid horrified screams and knowing guffaws, some folks diving under tables and others craning their necks for a better look, Connie took aim and squirted Randy right between the eyes with her vintage Daisy water pistol. Sheriff Tate pushed his coffee cup aside, shook his head, and admonished her. "Aw, now, Connie, one a these days you're gonna get yourself killed over that gun. Not everyone knows it ain't for real. Now gimme that thing, once and for all."
04-16-2015, 08:25 AM
“Loaf,” Vince murmured, “he's more loaf than meat,” as he watched Sheriff Tate chewing a mouth full of meat-loaf while at the same time admonishing Connie for brandishing the squirt gun again. He noticed that Sandy, the waitress, had retreated all the way to the juke-box. Skynyrd's Ronnie Van Zant was pleading for his life... “hey wait a minute mister, I didn't even kiss her. Don't want no trouble with you...”. Vince smiled knowingly. If Connie Cole wanted the gaps in Randy's weekend filled, she need look no further than Sandy. “There once was a creep named Randy – who fancied a waitress named Sandy...” Vince's thoughts often dissembled into half completed limericks. But he recognized an opportunity now. Everyone in the kitchen had come out to the serving counter to see what the commotion was all about between Randy and Connie. Vince, who himself had worked at the truck stop diner until just a couple of months ago, knew where the night staff kept the occasional $100- bill and the $50s that drifted in over the course of a shift, and no one was looking after them now. He stood, walked past the Red Box movie rental dispenser, past the women's room and then the men's, slipped through the swinging door leading to the now empty kitchen, and hurried to the little business office that was barely larger than a closet. Oh sure, the big bills were passed through a locked slot in the desk. But Vince knew the key was kept in a little magnetic box affixed to the desk bottom.
04-16-2015, 09:26 AM
"Maybe you should spend every night here, Randy!" Vince heard Connie yelling from the dining room as his hand closed around the key box. The yelling continued from various voices, partially muffled by the wall and two doors between the rooms. He glanced up before unlocking the drawer, but no one was looking at the office. They were all staring out the pass-through. He glanced down at the five bills in his hand. $350, and one of the fifties was fake. He put that one back, locked the drawer, and replaced the key. No one would notice the missing bills for hours.
04-16-2015, 01:26 PM
"say, vince," said a quiet voice from a dark corner of the office. "you're planning on sharing that, aren't you?"
04-16-2015, 04:09 PM
Unnerved, Vince dropped the money as he turned. That's what he got for not turning on the light. "Marty, what are you doing here? You're supposed to be on the Trenton route until Friday."
04-17-2015, 08:47 AM
"You looked like you might be up to your old tricks," grinned Marty, "so I figured out what you would probably do ahead of you. Remember, we have had some dealings before."
04-17-2015, 09:43 PM
“Evidently, you’ve forgotten all about those good times, haven’t you, Vince? How’s about I refresh your memory?” purred Marty. Picking up the bills Vince dropped, Marty counted them and whistled softly. “Not bad for a few minutes’ work, Vinnie, and you left the funny-money in the drawer so he’s going blame Sandy, for sure.” Running fuchsia-lacquered fingertips through Vince’s hair, Martyanne Hobbs batted her eyelashes and laughed, “We sure could have us a good time on the way to Trenton, Vinnie.”
04-18-2015, 04:40 PM
"Evil" Marty Hobbs - well, well, well - it's been a long time. I see you'll' still do anything for a quick buck.
04-19-2015, 12:17 PM
"Kitchen's still empty, Vince," Marty replied with a smile that had frozen many a man like a deer in the headlights, "but that quick buck will have to wait... but why worry? I'm the one holding the cash!"
"I thought we were going to share that," Vince reminded her.
"Perhaps another time," Marty said, grabbing her purse. "The Trenton route awaits, and as you've pointed out I'm behind schedule." She paused a moment by the door. "Oh here's a fifty. Hang onto it. Maybe think of it as a coupon for our next meeting?" And then she was gone.
04-20-2015, 03:13 PM
Either Marty had gotten sloppy, or maybe she was just overly confident...in any event, she strode smugly out of the office, and straight into Connie's trap. "Martyanne Hobbs, I have been trailing you for three months over four counties, and you are under arrest," said Connie with a grin.
04-20-2015, 05:51 PM
“Now, that’s a laugh, Connie! Who do you think you are? Cagney… or Lacey?” sneered Marty. “You gonna threaten me with your little squirt gun? Maybe snap some pink handcuffs on me? You’re pathetic.”
Pushing past Connie toward the front of the diner, Martyanne tossed a few more jabs. “I’ve been working my butt off for the past three months while your one-and-only hasn’t been lonely. Him and Sandy have been cooking up more than apple pies back in that kitchen, if you know what I mean,” she winked. “Some detective you are, hot stuff.”
04-21-2015, 01:32 PM
"For pete's sake," muttered Connie, flipping out her cell phone. "Yeah, Jack, Marty's headed straight for you. Bring her back here will you. We've got a few more fish to reel in and we need her here to finish up."
04-21-2015, 03:18 PM
Putting the phone back in her pocket, she flashed a quick smile at Randy. "Thanks, sweetie, for helping me make a scene! Maybe you should think about a career in acting," she added with a wink.
04-23-2015, 01:16 PM
“Knucklehead!” Randy thought. “I can be such a knucklehead.” He realized that Connie hadn't been here tonight to bust his chops over what she thought she knew about him and Sandy. She had only been here to snag the Trenton tramp, Martyanne Hobbs. It occurred to him that if Connie actually had slapped the handcuffs on Marty that would have been just one more thing they would have had in common. Hmmmm. He thought about that for a moment... and then Connie's voice brought him back to the here and now.
“Don't lose any sleep wondering if your little secret with Sandy here is still under wraps. It isn't, Randy,” Connie said with seemingly complete detachment. “I know all about it. Did you forget you were dating a detective?”
04-24-2015, 12:50 AM
'everything here is under my control."
But Connie was wrong about that.
Out in the parking lot, Jack felt that that he was completely prepared for the onslaught of wicked Martyanne Hobbs, the Trenton Tramp. Both he and Connie had gone over this scene so many times during the past few days, and their plan was the perfect trap.
As Marty walked out of the diner with a swagger, Jack prepared himself for the quick end-game of grabbing her and putting her under arrest, and finally ending her tyranny.
Jack stepped quickly from the back of the old VW, ready for anything, when from the right side of the diner there appeared flashing lights and a loud noise like a giant swarm of bees. "no way" he thought..."this can't be happening"
The giant Bell helicopter landed just a few feet from where Marty was standing. Another big whirr of the blades meant that she was out of their grasp once again!
04-25-2015, 10:56 AM
Natalya Mishkin slid into the co-pilots seat, and the helicopter was off the ground before she even had her belt secured. She watched FBI agent Jack Bauerliss shrink from view, standing frozen in disbelief in the nearly empty side of the parking lot normally reserved for semi-trucks. That had been fortuitous. She glanced at the man piloting the aircraft, Comrade Leonid Lipovsky, and she yearned to speak to him in Russian. But she knew the Navy helicopter was equipped with a black box and that everything they said had the very real potential of being heard by others. The moment she had boarded the helicopter she had ceased to be Martyanne Hobbs, but she also wasn't Natalya Mishkin... not here. She correctly assumed that they were headed back to the Naval Academy in Annapolis, where Comrade Lipovsky was known as Lieutenant Leonard Parker and she was Midshipman Rhonda Lowe from Kearney, Nebraska. She knew what Lt. Parker was thinking. It was the same thing she was thinking. How was he going to explain the unscheduled stop of a U.S. Naval helicopter at a truck-stop parking lot? As to explaining her presence on the aircraft, well... the two would not speak. The black box would not be breached with her voice, and she would make sure that no trace of her had ever been onboard.
04-25-2015, 11:30 AM
Disembarking from the helicopter in Annapolis, Natalya gave her co-conspirator a hug. "Thanks for saving my butt!"
04-26-2015, 04:23 PM
Talking with his mouth directly next to her ear, Lipovsky said, "Nitchivo, draga!"** Horrified to hear him speaking Russian, and acting quickly to cover it up, she stepped back, saluted him smartly and said, "Yes, Lieutenant Parker." As she walked away, Natalya mentally shook her head and thought, "Unbelievable! He thinks he's Maverick from Top Gun, and he's going to get us killed!" And yet, she thought, if he weren't such a cowboy, he would never have put a Navy helicopter down in that godforsaken hole of a town and gotten her out of there alive.
** "Don't mention it, sweetheart!"
04-28-2015, 09:48 AM
Ethan Hunt couldn't have pulled it off any better in a Mission: Impossible movie. Natalya, aka Rhonda or Martyanne or... she had so many names, and she wondered how she kept them all straight, had - by the time they'd landed in Annapolis - donned the silicone rubber mask of Lt. Donna Hodge, Parker's copilot. The hair and the mask had been perfect, and the uniform she'd slipped into just in time fit well too. She'd even garnered a salute or two from the ground crew as she departed the aircraft. But she had to wonder. What had Lt. Parker done with the real Lt. Hodge?
05-04-2015, 06:20 AM
Even as the thought flitted through her mind, she dismissed it. Such details were for others. Right now, she needed to figure out how to finish her current mission. That idiot Vince had interrupted her before she could copy the entire file. For sure, the documents were being moved out of the diner even now. And Connie and Jack were proving to be impressive adversaries.
05-05-2015, 10:29 AM
Staring at the document, Connie and Jack didn't quite know what to make of it. The heading read "Сверхсекретный. Для ваших глаз только." The rest of the page, which had been found on the truck-stop's office floor, was written in the same language. "Is that Greek?" asked Jack.
"Maybe." replied Connie. "Or Russian. But what would Martyanne be doing with this?"
05-07-2015, 03:35 PM
Sergei Sokolov was standing on a corner in Winslow, Arizona; his countenance was grim. It was a girl named Hodge in flat-bed Dodge who slowed down to take a look at him. Expecting Natalya Mishkin, the driver didn't appear to be her... but then he hadn't seen her in over two years, and maybe she was wearing one of her near perfect disguises. Her (Natalya's) codename today was “Walrus,” and if the driver wasn't Natalya then she shouldn't know the right answer to Sergei's question. “Who are you?” he asked as he climbed into the passenger seat and closed the door.
“Would you believe me if I told you I'm the eggman?” answered Donna Hodge.
“No,” answered Sokolov. “I am the eggman.” Never a patient man, nor one with a sense of humor, he repeated his question, “Who are you?” and he allowed the butt of his Makarov 9mm to show a little.
“Okay okay,” answered Hodge. “I am the walrus.” She popped the top of a Corona and handed the ice-cold beer to Sergei. He drank greedily from the bottle as CIA operative Donna Hodge pulled away from the curb. Seconds later, up ahead in the distance, Sergei saw a shimmering light. His head grew heavy and his sight grew dim, he had to stop for the... Sergei slumped over in his seat and Sergei was no more. Hodge would dump his body in the desert somewhere out past the Hotel California on Highway 99.
Twenty-five minutes later, and a couple of miles off the nearest road, Donna rolled Sergei's body out of the truck. She checked his pockets. “Hmmm, that's odd. A picture of Chairman Mao... well, Sergei, I guess you weren't gonna make it with anyone anyhow.” She had the documents that were intended for Sergei, the ones Connie Kohl had forwarded to her. The elusive Natalya Mishkin was to have given them to him, and Natalya was now long gone after the debacle with the documents. “Highly confidential – for your eyes only” the heading had read. What followed was Naval submarine codes, all written in Russian, but American codes. And there had been instructions to meet this man, “the Eggman” here in Arizona. The codes, Donna was certain, had been changed, but what if? What if they hadn't been changed? What if Natalya had gotten to the Eggman, Sergei Sokolov, with the codes?
Donna returned to the truck; the radio was playing an Eagles tune... Glenn Frey was singing “and I want to sleep with you in the desert tonight with a million stars all around.” “I don't think so,” Donna murmured to herself. “Tonight Sergei is gonna sleep in the desert all by himself.” She took a roundabout path getting back to Highway 99, returned to Winslow, dumped the truck, and caught a flight to Phoenix. From there she would would catch a direct flight to Baltimore. 6:00 AM would come early, and she had a flight scheduled as Lt. Donna Hodge... in the co-pilot's seat with her Captain, Leonid Lipovsky, aka Leonard Parker, who wasn't nearly as sympathetic to his homeland as the Russian intelligence agencies would like. - The End?
05-07-2015, 03:41 PM
Anyone want to start another story? I'll make two promises:o 1.) I'll stick to the "one line rule"... and 2.) I'll only 'reply' once every 6th entry or so. I don't want anybody to feel like they can't contribute. If anyone wants to get 'er started up again... put an opening line out there.:)
05-07-2015, 07:13 PM
Oh, geez... I guess I was the first one to break the "one line rule"... wasn't paying close enough attention to the rules. I'll try to do better this time so... here goes...
05-07-2015, 07:17 PM
As the slow-moving freight train rumbled past the back gate, one of the trainmen tossed an orange out the yellow caboose window and called out, "Here ya go, kid, tell your grandpappy Zeke says 'hey!'"
05-07-2015, 08:27 PM
Hmmm... not sure what happened to my last attempt to post apologies to all so here it is again. I figured that I needed to start a new thread for the next Pootie Game and did so under the heading: A Pootie Game Revived #2: The Kid. See you all there - and thanks for your patience.
05-07-2015, 08:46 PM
i don't think one line was a rule--at least that's not how you explained it, barnabas--for some reason, i just thought that was the protocol!
i don't mind more than one line at all. a paragraph does tend to move it along faster and give it some cohesiveness--nothing wrong with that. (personally, one line was about all i could ever come up with!)
it all works, right?
05-07-2015, 09:02 PM
My concern was that when I felt I was trying to breathe some fresh life into the story by adding a paragraph or two, and also for the reasons you stated, WV, what actually seemed to happen was that the story (which was never anything more than a game) became a little more suffocated. It became something exclusive rather than inclusive. A few people expressed their feelings that they felt intimidated. And that's the last thing I wanted. I'm hoping puzzleme's fresh start will take off; it certainly looks like a fun opening line.
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