@>-'->-'-EXQUISITE CORPSE's topics - tribe.net

A Toast To Departed Poets

MarcoPolo — Tue, 12 Feb 2008 21:58:03 GMT

When In Disgrace With Fortune And Men's Eyes............

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a deathly silence

timfirecracker — Thu, 28 Jul 2005 19:55:40 GMT

The corpse lay there, cold and pale. The time of death was unkown, but the last reported siting alive was July 19th at 6:04pm. What exactly had happened since then was unclear. I suspected that the body has just been lying there slowly passing away while people took a quick glance and then moved on. Whether uncaring or uninterested they were definitely uninvolved. I doubted the investigation would go very far, but there was always hope, something might turn up. I took another look at the name tag on the cadaver. "@>-'->-'-EXQUISITE CORPSE tribe", I thought,"what happened to you?"

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He is beautiful

spookee — Thu, 20 Apr 2006 18:11:59 GMT

He hates being called pretty, but he is. Hates thinking of himself as vain but as I said he is pretty. He doesn't realize it (though he pretends to) but it's in the depths where it matters that he shines. Brilliant: the machinations of his mind create virtual miracles and yet obscurins the light with whatever is handy, a veil of smoke blue like his eyes a flaming sleight of hand. *Poof* He disappears.

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crazy is as crazy does

skadi_lupa — Wed, 25 Jan 2006 05:23:49 GMT

he started off his day yawning while slinging shitty coffee before the sun had even broken the clouds.

he was an asshole anyway.

forget smiling or tipping. there is no point the service never gets any better with him. he hates everyone. he needs an attitudinal lobotomy. his name is eric. unfortunately eric is not only drop dead f*cking gorgeous he is also the only barista for miles when i need my morning caffeine drip.

but this morning he seemed exeptionally crabby. not looking up, grunting, and asking which roast twice!

eric couldn't possibly have been awake enough to have seen the craziness coming his way standing in line just behind me.

she stunk of cigarettes and too much perfume--odd for 5:30 am in small town usa. she was mumbling to herself and tapping her toe impatiently while i paid. and she was still digging through her pockets for change to pay for her coffee when i left...

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...

MarcoPolo — Fri, 07 Oct 2005 05:47:59 GMT

There are some things

which should be left

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meta-scribe

MisterLovegrove — Thu, 18 Nov 2004 17:11:18 GMT

Sitting at his desk, head aching from caffeine withdrawal and stomach still in knots from a daylong bout of nausea so severe he thought he was going to turn himself inside out in similar fashion to a sea cucumber, Alex ignored the pile of work that had backed up in his in-basket while he had been out sick the previous day and fought off the urge to start his next attempt at fiction with the hoariest of old cliches, because where he lived, dark and stormy nights were mostly few and far between.

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the inbetween hours

MisterLovegrove — Fri, 19 Nov 2004 01:14:13 GMT

My teeth were rattling in my head from the effective combination of the left and right hook that the drunk i had deliberately angered laid upon me. I was in rare form, walking in to a country bar and cracking jokes at his expense, pretending to be drunk even though I was stone sober, saving the booze for after. I wake up bleary -eyed and still well before dawn - both from the pollution and from wanting more than a little bit to howl over the pain in my mouth and when i get to the bathroom and catch my face in the mirror, i am surpirsed to see that my eyes have not blacked from the hits.

Strangely enough, though, a visibly bloodstained but not completely crimson tear is running down my cheek...

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a night in juarez

slice-o-pi — Mon, 27 Jun 2005 06:48:02 GMT

On a slip of bar napkin, the boy had drawn the outline of her eyes, which peered out at the world with all the emotive power of a stained sheet. A blotch of picante sauce sat congealing near the left corner of this would-be canvas. This absence of artistic expression was not for a lack of earnestness, for earnestness was etched into every line of the drawing, and the boy had meant everything that he’d heard and felt that night. And everything that he’d said. She was his heroine, his savior, and he held her with all the desire in him, or all that he was capable of manifesting in his thin, thirteen-year-old arms. He cupped her breast with love in his heart, for she had made him a man that night, and the tenderness they had exchanged would surely stay with them all their lives. Just as he was settling in to the certainty of their future together, his reverie was cut short by her sudden businesslike tone.

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Good Eats

steve — Fri, 13 May 2005 20:58:23 GMT

Too many people, too few waiters. Butthe money isn't bad. Some woman with Buddy Holly glasses and a nose like a pug flagged me down.
"Um, is there meat in this?"
I glanced back at the kitchen, and then back to Puggy Holly.
"Both of our cooks are Hindu. They don't even like to talk about meat. Is everything okay?"
Her plate was almost empty.
No, yes, it's just so good, i was afraid i was eating...veal...or something"
Or something is right. I walked away and went to take an order from a table of cops that had just been seated.
-

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The things we must do

Candace_the_Bibliophile — Wed, 04 May 2005 15:13:26 GMT

It wasn't the worst thing I'd ever done, but there sure was a lot of blood. More than I'd expected. It made me feel a little guilty... all that blood. Mom would have been going off her gourd... such a mess. She was always quite strict about messes, scrubbing away at the floor far into the night after dad would come home drunk. Didn't matter if it was puke or her own blood; it must be scrubbed. Least dad wouldn't be making any more messes, and she was long past cleaning them up anyway since her little accident on the stairs. Everyone knew he did it, but no one said anything. Damn hypocrits... just cause he was on the force.

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You're welcome to start new threads

spookee — Sat, 15 May 2004 15:31:12 GMT

Go ahead.

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McStealth

steve — Fri, 16 Jul 2004 04:56:03 GMT

I'm Arthur McStealth, but my friend Bobby calls me McPig. Sometimes McPiglet. My boss, Captain Wilson, calls me the worst cop in America. My partner, Officer Lucy Kim, say's I'm a nice guy though just too white for my own good. She also says I was born in the year of the Pig. The Pig again. Just because I think that some of our laws are poorly written, and just because I've only ever arrested one person in my 9 years on the force, and just because I usually give warnings instead of tickets to people i catch in speed traps ( i even hate to do speed traps, i'm sure that radar gun is giving people cancer) my boss hates my guts. Captain Wilson is out to get me off the force. He say's guys like me should join the peace corps. And now he wants to see me in his office about some "special assignment."

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The Flood

237 — Thu, 09 Sep 2004 05:51:38 GMT

Before the water rose, Marky had wheat growing in the front 40. The shafts had lifted heavy heads to the sun, ripening quickly. The heat had shimmered over golden fields, future glowing golden, before the river turned from a source of life to a mutant corrupter of all it touched.
But that was before the meteor hit. Before everyhting changed.

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After zee 50th year of peace on earth,

Wed, 16 Jun 2004 05:30:51 GMT

zee peepulls were antsy. Zay meesed zee conflixts. So sum biddy lit zee match.

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Soggy Dog Story

steve — Sun, 16 May 2004 01:02:45 GMT

i am a dog and i like to go outside the town when the sun goes down. sometimes one of my sisters comes by and we wrestle and race and run a bit, then listen to the sky and think about the dog star and wonder if there are other planets with dogs on them. usually i go home when it starts to get light so my provider can feed me before she goes away for the day. i was about to go home today when i heard some a-hole blowing one of those annoying dog whistles.

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Once upon a time...

spookee — Fri, 14 May 2004 06:40:57 GMT

There was a princess who loved wolves.

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The Corner Store

spookee — Wed, 12 May 2004 17:37:23 GMT

I went to the City Market corner store with five dollars to get dinner and a movie for a date. I bought an avocado, some black beans and some strawberries. I looked for a movie I thought the two of us might like to watch, but I barely knew my date, should I get the safe indy art house flick to make myself look smart or should I rent a chick-flick and test his girlie endurance? At that moment I saw the store clerk (the cute one) staring at me.

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$50.00

spookee — Wed, 12 May 2004 21:56:34 GMT

They were driving home from a party, she and he and his friend. They spoke Italian to each other, excluding her. The friend hot out and he took the wheel. Seconds later his phone rang. “Cinquanta? Cinquanta dollari.” She wondered how little Italian they thought she knew. Fifty bucks they had said. That’s how much the job paid. But what was the job? Why did it pay so little, and why would they only speak about it in Italian while she was in earshot?

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