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Vesnic
08-01-2007, 10:56 AM
Hello friends...the great thing about drinking first thing in the morning is that you don't have to drink as much to achieve the same effects. An empty stomach does wonders!

Anyway, I've been digging through the annals of my successful, albeit brainwashed youth, and stumbled today upon instructions for CYOA and, to really put the icing on the cake, a little story in said form that I did for elementary-school D.A.R.E.

First of all, and with only a slight hint of irony in my voice because, after all, the Emperor has no clothes, I present to you, my D.A.R.E. certificate of achievement:

DARE certifies that *Vesnicie* has successfully completed the curriculum in Drug Abuse Resistance Education (DARE) and has made a personal commitment to avoid the pressures to begin using drugs.

Signed, various and sundry Squares

First, some rules I was given at the age of 10 for CYOA:

This kind of short novel is fun to write. It is a good project for two people because you can divide up the endings and each write half of them, but you have to agree on the basic story and write that together...
1.) Always refer to the main character as "you". Remember that you as the author are speaking to the person reading the story, who is supposed to think of herself/himself as the main character. For that reason, you cannot think of the main character as either a boy or a girl.
2.) Your story should have all the qualities of a good story. Remember to show and not tell, use details and description, and use some dialogue.
3.) Do not include violence. Everything you write should be in good taste and appropriate.

Hahahhaah! That last one is a hootin' and a holler, don't you think, kids?

And now, the GoodyGoody Manifesto, told in 2nd person, naturally!

It's YOUR Choice: Substance Abuse

PAGE 1
"Another day of boredom!" you think miserably to yourself, easing your back into the small, plastic desk chair. Mrs., Hebert, your math teacher, is going on and on about algebraic equations, and it's boring you stiff. You're a smart kid and you've always wished that your school would move a little faster with its lessons. Mrs. Hebert's voice buzzes on, and you just can't take it anymore. You raise your hand and ask, "May I be excused?" Mrs. Hebert acknowledges your request with a nod, and you dart out of the room like an arrow. Anything to get out of that class! As you near the bathroom and open the door, a thick, suffocating odor penetrates your nose. It's smoke. You know a lot of students go in there to get a light, but you know it's wrong. You step inside, but instantly want to leave. You see Sam and Casey, the highschool's two most popular kids. They're inhaling deeply and talking about the party at Eva's on Friday. You're not exactly the most popular kid in school, and you hurry to the nearest stall, pretending not to notice them and holding your breath to stop from coughing on the thick smoke. Just as you're about to lock yourself in the safe stall, you hear Sam say, "Hey, you!"
You look back in surprise. "Me?" you croak.
"Yeah, you," Casey says with a smirk. "Want a light?"

Go on to page 2

PAGE 2
Sam takes out a cigarette and hands it to you. Your hand quivers as you hastily take the cigarette, almost dropping it.
"Hey!" Casey says. "If you have this, we'll let you into our little clique. If you don't, we'll try our hardest to make you look like a horse's rear-end. We like you, and all you have to do is smoke this one little thing, and you'll get to be a cool person, like us!"
Well, you know smoking is wrong, and messes you up, but at the same time you've been dying for a chance to be popular, for once.

If you take the cigarette, turn to page 5
If you refuse, turn to page 8

PAGE 3
"Let's get out of here!" you slur. "I don' wanna be grounded for my whole life!" You, Casey, Sam and Eva run out to the car. You get in the driver's seat and slam on the accelerator. Everything passes in a blur, and you lose track of where you are. Suddenly, you crash head-on into another car. It turns out you killed a 7-year-old boy and his mother, and you'll have to spend the rest of your life drowning in guilt. Oh, well, you just HAD to be cool. THE END.

PAGE 4
You find out the next day. The headline of the paper reads, "THREE HIGHSCHOOL YOUTHS ARRESTED FOR DRIVING DRUNK".
There's also a photograph of Casey's car lying on the side of the road, just a heap of metal left of it. A caption beneath the photo reads, "7-YEAR-OLD DANNY FOX AND HIS MOTHER, PATRICIA, LOST THEIR LIVES LAST NIGHT AT THE EXPENSE OF THREE DRUNKEN TEENAGERS."
Now you feel grateful for the smart choices you made, on not letting your ego blind you. Things like that are what really make you a cool person. THE END.

PAGE 5
"Sure, I guess," you say as Sam lights the end of your cigarette. Being as nonchalant as possible, you take it and inhale deeply, trying your hardest to act like Casey and Sam. The smoke fills your throat and lungs and you gasp for a breath of fresh air.
"Rookie!" Casey says with a smirk and pats your back. Hard. You smile through watery eyes from the smoke. "That wasn't so bad," you think. "And now I'll finally get to be popular!"
"So," Sam says, breaking your wandering reverie. "You're actually kinda cool. One never would have guessed. Why don't you come with us to the party, it'll really be a blast! You'll get to go on a trip!"
"Yeah!" Casey says. "A trip!" They walk out of the bathroom laughing, leaving you wondering what they mean by this "trip". You stand, thinking for a moment, then turn around and walk into one of the stalls.
Turn to Page 6

PAGE 6
It's Friday night, and you've just arrived at Eva's for the party. You step out of Casey's car and join Sam and Casey as you jog up the steps to Eva's house.
"Hi!" another girl named Theresa says in a friendly voice, nodding to Casey and Sam. "Come on in!"
"Where's Eva?" Casey asks, looking around the room.
"I don't know. She'll be back soon." You step nervously forward, trailing slightly behind Casey and Sam. Suddenly you feel a pat on your shoulder. You turn around and see one of your best friends, Wanda.
"What are you doing with those two?" Wanda asks, glaring suspiciously at Casey and Sam.
"They're my new friends," you murmur uncomfortably. "Okay?"
Wanda says, "Don't have a cow. Why don't you come over here with me and have a soda?" You're about to follow her when you hear Casey say from behind you, "Hey you! Where are you going? Come over here and have a beeer with us!"
You know in your heart that you'd much rather be with Wanda, even though she's not really popular. But at the same time you want to fit in with the cool crowd.

Beer and be cool? Page 9
Soda and be a nerd? Page 11

PAGE 7
"I'm staying here!" you manage to mumble. Wanda looks hurt, but you don't notice. You're too drunk. She stomps out, slamming the door behind her. But you don't mind. You're way too busy getting drunk and high on pot. But soon the party is abruptly ended. Red and blue lights flash outside.
"The cops!" Eva shrieks. "Wanda must have reported us!"
"Come on!" Casey says. "My car's parked out back. We might be able to get away!" You're really in for it now. Do you stay and face the music, or do you SCRAM?
Pay the fiddler's bill on page 10
Get out fast on page 3

PAGE 8
"No way!" you say. "Cigarettes aren't for me!"
"That's a shame," Casey says mockingly, jabbing you in the gut. "It looks like you're a chicken." Casey and Sam start making chicken noises, and you run out of the bathroom. "I just blew a perfectly good opportunity!" you think. You trudge slowly back to class.
It turns out your best friend, Wanda, was going to Eva's party as well. As you walk slowly up to Eva's front door, you and Wana are invited inside. You're thirsty and you step up to the drink table. It's divided in two, though. On one side is soda and on the other side is beer. Casey and Sam step up to you again.
"Have a beer!" Sam says.
"No!" Wanda interrupts. "Have soda with me."
How important is your image right now. What should you do?

Have beer with the cool clan, turn to page 9
Have soda with Wanda, turn to page 11

Vesnic
08-01-2007, 10:57 AM
PAGE 9
"Sorry, Wanda," you say to your crestfallen friend. You turn towards the beer table and take a Sam Adams.
"Isn't it great?" Sam says, just as you finish the Sam Adams. Casey tosses you another one. You want to gag at the thought of more beer, but, hey, anything to be cool! You take it from Casey and finish it fairly easily. Just then you notice a car pulling up the driveway.
"It's Eva!" you hear someone yell. Eva enters the house. She's a tall Hispanic girl. She holds a large boom box and a brown paper bag filled with something.
"Hey!" she says. "I got some grass from Uncle Juan!"
"All right!" Sam yells, pushing you towards Eva. You're feeling very dizzy and your feet seem to have the effect of feathers under your legs, which seem to weigh a ton.
"This is our new member!" Sam says, pointing to you as she talks to Eva. "Hey, try some grass!"
"Wait," Wanda says, suddenly breaking between you and Sam. "This isn't right. Come on!" She says to you, "Let's go home! This is your last chance. I'm splitting!"
"No, man!" Sam says. "Stay with us! " You're so drunk, you don't really care. Just choose one.

If you stay, turn to page 7
If you go, turn to page 12

PAGE 10
"Leave me alone!" you growl, your eyes half shut. "I'm staying." You start to doze on the couch, and when you open your eyes again you find yourself in a chair sitting in the police station. You've sobered up, but reality bites you like a freezing winter wind. Suddenly, you see your mother rushing sternly up to you. You don't want to face whatever happens next, but you do know one thing for sure. You'll go with the soda next time. It's better, anyway. THE END.

PAGE 11
"Sure, Wanda!" you say, pushing your stupid image aside, and shuddering at the thought of what happens to some drunk drivers. Grabbing a cola, you sit down on the couch with Wanda. Suddenly, Eva opens the front door with a brown paper bag clutched in one hand.
"Hey!" she says. "I got some grass!" You and Wanda both get up at once. This party is becoming too much.
"Let's go!" Wanda says.

Turn to page 12

PAGE 12
"You're right," you say. "This party is getting out of control." You and Wanda simply walk out. Once you have reached a pay-phone, you dial the police to report the party. They arrive and stop the party, but you discover that Casey, Sam and Eva aren't there. What could have happened to them?

Turn to page 4

Oh, man! At first I thought I'd just throw this out. But now I think it is deserving of a ceremonial burning along with some choice photos. Did anyone else produce some really prime literary work in their early years that they want to share here?

Nappi
08-01-2007, 03:23 PM
Delicate Thoughts



Tell me the secret young yung doctor;
figure me the complications and tell me of this disease.
tell me what so cunningly hides inside of me.
My skull feels exposed and there is a ringing between my ears....



The air here carries a chill, a soothing omen of sorts:
reminding us of how our freedoms are slight and delicate thoughts;
such supple prey for the everpresent elements of pain
and their suggestive ways.

From the apparent chaos of a chemical memory and fragmented recollections
a thousand and one thoughts emminate
all thoughts contrived cultured and revised
lead to the one thought that refuses to die.
with all the subtleties of an approaching freight train
it surfaces with bursting heart corpuscles and a strong push for survival


Its the disease that does this ...provokes the pains I mean.


It echoes the voices so full of noises and stirs the crowds of subjects
to scream in one deafening inflection of rage...my broken thoughts offer invitations for my killers to walk along side of me...
invitations and requests ( I am protecting an army of enemies)



With the agony of hammers dancing in my head with a want to be free
We Me and Mine move by the speed of shadow and perfect our sins along the way


the moon has been replaced with an eearie stillness...


all things good have gone to sleep

Nappi
08-01-2007, 03:29 PM
Joyous Servitudes




Artist of the day are a peculiar lot;birthing forth mindless abstractions and pointless contests.
Turning the canvas into a mental quagmyre guised as "art".They seem more likened unto neurotic scientists hel bent
on hearing their own voices entralled in the deliberation upon explanations that might disban the common man's delusions
of the world in which he must live.


I have become sickened with so many saviours...their riteous onslaught wakens me in the cool evening hours with
suffocation and convulsion.These self proclaimed prophets threaten to solve my afflictions with an eagerness to unravel
the delicate threads of thought and sanity that hold my very life to get her.In their frenzied zeal to solve,they will
force me into an eternal contentment basking in joy and holy ejaculation.