Tag Archives: Page 56 Game

The ACTUAL Page 56 Story

There’s been a terrible breach of protocol in BeckyLand, but we will hunt down those at fault for not using all the Page 56 sentences that were posted. It seems that someone only used the comments that came in while she he they were on vacation, forgetting the others that had already been posted, creating a woefully incomplete story.

The evil perpetrator will be tracked and beaten about the head and shoulders, strung up by her his, their thumbs, and not given any cookies for at least three days.

Rest assured, though, it is safe for all of BeckyLand to emerge from the bunkers and face a beautiful new day with a new Page 56 Story. Please don’t worry about the bad, bad blogger in BeckyLand. You’re safe now.

Again, the sentences in red are the 56 Page comments. I added the stuff in black.

MOTHERS AND MONKEYS, RUSSIANS AND RAFTERS

Cast of Characters

Dave ”” owner of Ye Olde Rafter, a raft supply shop
Moose ”” a rhesus monkey
Mother ”” retired educator, now an Olympic knitter, mother of Dave
Vladimir ”” a really old Russian army officer
Sticky ”” monkey wrangler, failed novelist and self-proclaimed matchmaker

“What are you reading, Sticky?” Dave asked, placing stacks of balsa wood on shelves.

“It’s a novel about a beautiful yet sensitive author whose spirit is crushed by her domineering editor.” Sticky knew that creativity was an economic force long before the twentieth century, but she still loved a good, solid story dissing editors, especially those who denied her any kind of ”˜economic force.’

Moose scampered across her shoulders and yanked the book from her hands, escaping across the laps of Mother and Vladimir warming themselves by the pickle barrel in Dave’s shop. Moose wiggled the dials on the radio and in Des Moines, a live radio broadcast covered the progress of 600 men of the 168th Infantry from East First Street across the Grand Avenue Bridge to Union Station.

Vladimir cupped a hand around his ear and fingered the medals pinned to his uniform. “But little time will be left me to ponder upon my destiny!” he said, inexplicably.

Sticky winked but Mother shook her head. “He is cute, but I can’t have a crush on him because he’s way too old, like twenty-eight or something,” she whispered to Sticky.

In 1905 he was permitted to return to St. Petersburg,” Sticky explained, as if that would change Mother’s mind.

Just then, the bell jingled and three raft enthusiasts poured into the shop, mid-conversation, which is why it didn’t make sense to anyone.

When Billy thought we were strong enough, we stepped up the pace, running with rubber tires, which felt like they’d just come off the shuttle or at least that big ole tractor out back,” the first one said.

Rubber bands?” the dumb one asked.

“No, idiot. Rubber TIRES. Sheesh. Clean your ears.”

Also, make sure that your children memorize your address and telephone number in case they get lost, and show them how to dial 911 in an emergency,” the third one said, pulling a warm pickle from the barrel.

“Dudes, what are you talking about?” Dave asked.

The first one said, “We’re talking survival, baby. Sur. Vi. Val. For when we go rafting. And unlike the cold winter months, when laundry is dried indoors and takes longer, summer is when clothing can be washed, dried, folded, and put away in a single day.”

“And if there’s a mountain lion?” Mother asked, not looking up from her knitting.

Hit the mountain lion in the head, especially around the eyes and mouth,” the three said in unison, as if reciting from a how-to survival guide.

Suddenly they stopped and looked around Ye Olde Rafter, as if they’d found nirvana. The first one said solemnly and with poor grammar, “We had reached the country where the balsa tree grows and were to build timber to build our raft.”

Everyone in the shop nodded. Dave asked, “Where are you planning on rafting?”

The dumb one said, “Cornalia, Corneelija, Cornela, Cornelija, Corneleya. The other three ”” the Great Basin, the Mojave, and the Chihuahuan- are classic rain-shadow deserts.”

Dave squinted at him. “Yeah. And they’re deserts.” Dave knocked over a stack of balsa when Moose startled him by leaping across the shelving.

“He’s looking for you,” Sticky whispered ever so quietly in Dave’s ear (as he’d been keeping a watchful eye on the little rascal since the monkey had landed with a thump on his fuzzy orange rump). Dave shuddered at the sight of the naked little monkey butt.

“Go on, get dressed, Moose…” Sticky commanded. “And not those Spiderman socks this time!”

As Mother dabbed a few tears of joy from her rosy cheeks and chuckled, “Spider legs!” one of us, Sticky, as it turns out, as a final thought, said her fondest memory had to be the one of Mom cheerfully knitting us those slippers with the big pom-poms.

Mother realized her shoes and stockings were still downstairs by the fireplace and the three customers played ”˜Keep Away’ from Moose with them. She came to thoroughly dislike the light-headed young fellows of the shop.

Every teacher of middle age or more can count up instances of highly successful former students who, as freshmen or sophomores, even juniors or seniors, seemed silly beyond all hope of reclamation. Mother glanced around the room, thankful she never taught any of these morons.

Page 56 Story

Before I left town to visit my dad, I offered another chance to play the Page 56 Game.  I got distracted briefly by the untimely death of Michael Jackson and the zillions of Thriller dance videos moonwalking and crotch-grabbing through cyberspace. But I finally focused for eight-and-a-half minutes and pulled together all the sentences into a, ahem, story. Please don’t search too hard for a beginning, middle and an end. It’s more like a muddle. But it’s a BeckyLand muddle, which makes it fun …..

The sentences in red are the ones provided. Words in black I added. You know. To make the story flow effortlessly with perfect prose.

[Note: Turns out someone in BeckyLand ”” I’m not naming names ”” is a doofus and didn’t use all the sentences that were provided her him them. HERE is the Actual Page 56 Story.]

Mother’s House in Des Moines

Cast of characters:
• Moose ”” the monkey
• Great Basin,
• Mojave, and
• Chihuahuan ”” three jazz trumpeters from Arizona, known in jazz parlance as “rain-shadow deserts” because they drench their listeners with sweet melody until it seeps into the earth.
• Sticky ”” one of Mother’s former students who owns a monkey-sitting business
• Dave ”” creative writer, thinking of joining the military
• Mother ”” teacher, mother of Dave

“He’s looking for you,” Sticky whispered ever so quietly in Dave’s ear (as he’d been keeping a watchful eye on the little rascal since the monkey had landed with a thump on his fuzzy orange rump).

“He is cute, but I can’t have a crush on him because he’s way too old, like twenty-eight or something.” Dave said. “Plus, I’m thinking of joining the Army. And he’s a rhesus monkey.”

Dave understood that creativity was an economic force long before the twentieth century, but not as it pertained to the military. He, Sticky and Mother accepted their creative limitations, but the other three ”” the Great Basin, the Mojave, and the Chihuahuan ”” are classic rain-shadow deserts. They lifted their trumpets to their mouths, but before they could sound a note, Mother jabbed her knitting needles in the air and said, “Go on, get dressed, Moose…”

Her shoes and stockings were still downstairs by the fireplace so Moose wiggled into them.

In Des Moines, a live radio broadcast covered the progress of 600 men of the 168th Infantry from East First Street across the Grand Avenue Bridge to Union Station. Dave sighed, voicing the same old should-I-enlist arguments in his head. “Such a sweet uniform, and patches ”” so many patches ”” but little time will be left me to ponder upon my destiny!”

A commotion distracted him. The three musicians were fighting over the wii.

“Hit the mountain lion in the head, especially around the eyes and mouth.”

“Rubber bands?”

“No! With the spider web blaster!”

As Mother dabbed a few tears of joy from her rosy cheeks and chuckled, “Spider legs!” one of us, as a final thought, said her fondest memory had to be the one of Mom cheerfully knitting us those slippers with the big pom-poms.

Every teacher of middle age or more can count up instances of highly successful former students who, as freshmen or sophomores, even juniors or seniors, seemed silly beyond all hope of reclamation.

And today was no exception in Mother’s house in Des Moines.

Page 56 Game Redux

It’s time to play another Page 56 Game!! The first one was so much fun, I don’t know why it’s taken me so long to do another.

YAY!

Rules:

* Grab the book nearest you. Right now.
* Turn to page 56.
* Find the fifth sentence.
* Post that sentence.
* Don’t dig for your favorite book, the coolest, the most intellectual. Use the CLOSEST.

I’ll be taking a computer vacay this week and collecting sentences the whole time … I hope! So forward this link and tell your friends to play. We’ll write the story next week sometime.

Happy reading!

Page 56 Story

Here is the story I made from the 5th sentences of various 56th pages. The only words I added are in bold. Try to overlook the POV and tense shifts. And the lack of dramatic tension. And clarity. And plot. The spelling, however, is impeccable.

Scene: Congressional bailout hearings

Cast of Characters:
• APON and LYDIA, Chairmen of General Motors and Chrysler
• The “GUNSLINGER”, AKA RALPH, longest-serving Senator ever
• CASSIOPEIA, Chairman of Ford Motors
• JHAI TSERAI, Treasury Secretary
• SHLIMAZEL, current President of the United States
• IGOR, current Vice-President of the United States
• DEIDAMIA, House Majority Leader
• ERIC, President-Elect
• JORDAN, Director of Homeland Security
• ANGEL, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff

Apon and Lydia are three billion years gone, the gunslinger told them; they have become Old Star and Old Mother, the north and south, each pining for the other but both now too proud to beg for reconciliation . . . and Cassiopeia sits off to the side in her chair, rocking and laughing at them both. They all got it from Jhai Tserai, who was apparently picky about details, especially those regarding quality management.

“Black in his heart, son.”

It had been going on almost nonstop for three months when he first came to see me. It made me a little mad to be confused for my father, but I knew Ralph was an egg or two short of a dozen. His mind was trying to formulate a motive but all he could think of was a full-page publicity shot of Bogie and Bacall kissing from the 1944 film To Have and Have Not.

“I ain’t telling you again, Shlimazel,” said Igor. “THEN, the onload() event fires on the body tag, which calls the drawgraph() function.”

“Say you so?” Deidamia exclaimed hopefully.

After tolerating his self-importance and dictatorial attitude all evening, I’d be content to fade away with my belly full and with Eric unable to contact me again with his crazy ideas like, “Given that, we have to think about raising taxes or cutting spending or finding some ‘not too cold, not too hot’ combination platter. If you cannot, stick with a tantalizing capsule description in your letter.”

“Coffee klatsch?” Shlimazel asked, incomprehensibly. “I will substitute for your ego, if you wish, but never for your spirit.” Trying not to leave handprints, he slithered along the ground, supporting his weight on his forearms.

Jordan whispered in Angel’s ear, his breath hot and foul, “You remember our secret game? Well, you wouldn’t, unless what you found there was better than the alternatives, and our eleven-year-old found Harry Potter more fun, more exciting, more suspenseful than all the alternatives open to him.”

“That hit home! Now I understand why my Nervenarzt recommended that I consult you,” Cassiopeia cackled.

Make your own story! Here are all of the sentences so you can copy and paste it into your own document. I printed out a copy and cut it apart, arranging and rearranging on the table in front of me.

Apon and Lydia are three billion years gone, the gunslinger told them; they have become Old Star and Old Mother, the north and south, each pining for the other but both now too proud to beg for reconciliation . . . and Cassiopeia sits off to the side in her chair, rocking and laughing at them both.

If you cannot, stick with a tantalizing capsule description in your letter.

Given that, we have to think about raising taxes or cutting spending or finding some ‘not too cold, not too hot’ combination platter.

After tolerating his self-importance and dictatorial attitude all evening, I’d be content to fade away with my belly full and with Eric unable to contact me again.

They all got it from Jhai Tserai, who was apparently picky about details, especially those regarding quality management.

Then, the onload() event fires on the body tag, which calls the drawgraph() function.

It made me a little mad to be confused for my father, but I knew Ralph was an egg or two short of a dozen.

“I ain’t telling you again, Shlimazel,” said Igor.

Uh, page 56 in my book was a full-page publicity shot of Bogie and Bacall kissing for the 1944 film To Have and Have Not.

I will substitute for your ego, if you wish, but never for your spirit.

It had been going on almost nonstop for three months when he first came to see me.

Well, you wouldn’t, unless what you found there was better than the alternatives, and our eleven-year-old found Harry Potter more fun, more exciting, more suspenseful than all the alternatives open to him.

His mind was trying to formulate a motive.

Jordan whispered in her ear, his breath hot and foul, “You remember our secret game, Angel?”

Black in his heart, son.

That hit home! Now I understand why my Nervenarzt recommended that I consult you.

Trying not to leave handprints, he slithered along the ground, supporting his weight on his forearms.

Coffee klatsch.

“Say you so?” Deidamia exclaimed hopefully.