Something to kill the time
Hey, my friends and I have been doing something really fun (for Lost geeks I guess). We have taken all the episode titles thus far and are competing to make the best short story that uses all of the titles in order. I am still working on mine. But maybe you guys should give it a try and post it.
PS: I am sorry for all my ranting in my latest comments, it is just that I am trying my best to be courteous and not ruin anyone’s Lost viewing experience and this last week has been the hardest with all the BS posts that have been going around.
You can talk the talk but can you walk the walk? Go ahead and post it! đ
Here is part one
The Lost Mad Libs: Chronological Episode Title (part 1, season 1)
Extra points: It is contains 1500 words or less.
Word count: 1,052
There once was a pilot who use to fly a G5 for an older eccentric rich guy. They often did discuss the philosophy of tabula rasa among other things of little and great consequence. One day the pilotâs employer decided he wanted to journey to Australia to participate in a walkabout and that is just what he did. As a gift the pilot got to go as well.
When the pair got off of the plane and went to the local pub there was a woman who had a tattoo on her bare shoulder of a white rabbit that happened to be the bartender. The tattoo reminded the pilot of two things. The first being that Alice in Wonderland was still his favorite story from his youth and the second was that scene in âThe Matrix (part 1) that leads Neo on his journey to the truth. âHow apropos,â the pilot thought to himself. The pilotâs employer ordered his favorite drink, âHouse of the Rising Sunâ. The pilot always thought that he should just order as a tequila sunrise, like everyone else, but with large sums of cash, he guessed that eccentricity just came along with it naturally, like how bees know how to make honey.
The bartender was not a traditional beauty but she had a certain something that pulled the pilot in, he could not help himself from staring at her pale but well adorned skin. She had a lot of little tattoos and one that caught the fancy of the pilot was that of a moth. Moths were the pilots favorite insect. They were plain and often unrecognized for the hard work they did and the service they provided but necessary, not beautiful and frivolous like the butterfly. He saw a little of himself in the creatures, he supposed to himself quietly.
Joint was definitely jumping. There were pretty ladies all about. In walked the stranger with fake British accent, or perhaps it was badly mangled Australian accent. But the man was the quintessential beautiful stranger; tall, dark and handsome. And on the prowl might I add. The pilot had seen his share the of type, this guy was definitely a confidence man. The pilot quickly took stock in his surroundings making sure his employer was close.
His employer was playing electronic solitary on the pub gaming system. This reminded the pilot of his time growing up as an only child. He had been raised by his grandmother but always wished he had been raised by another. He never got to do much. He couldnât leave the yard on his own until he was 12. His grandmother always embarrassed him and was extremely strict. He quickly pushed away all his ill thoughts because she had done the best she could and she was also dead. He smugly thought to himself, âWho says, ALL the best cowboys have DADDY issues?â A little giggle escaped his throat and the bartender jerked up to see what was so funny.
âYou laughing at me?â she asked self-consciously.
âOf course not, maâam, just laughing at myself,â he replied honestly.
âWhatever the case may be, late me buy you a drink,â she declared.
âYou donât have to ask me twice, Iâll take a Killianâs, not when in Rome, a Fosterâs.â
âYou got it. Whatâs your name and a take it youâre a yank?â
âThe name is Brian and yeah, I am yank and proud of it.â
At this point the pilot was getting nervous. Attractive girls donât flirt with him, even if it is a bartender.
The bartender was horny and long over sue for her pipes to be cleaned out. At precisely the same moment both their hearts and minds were a flutter with thoughts what could and should (and would soon) be.
There was something definitely special about the bartender, the pilot could feel it.
When the bartender gave him his drink and accidentally (perhaps, even accidentally on purpose) brushed his hand, the touch, even though it was so slight, felt like a homecoming of sorts. But all those thoughts went right out the window when a gang of outlaws came trouncing in and the pilot knew it had to be because of that damn con man I the corner flirting with the group of married woman out on the town for a âgirlâs nightâ. Sure enough they made a beeline for the con man. He scooted closer to his employee, he didnât want anything happening to his bread and butter after all. He noticed out of the corner of his that the bartender was crouched under the bar and loading her shotgun. It was a sexy sight to behold. Now, if she loved to hunt and play cards this would be a match made in heaven. He heard the bartender grumble something he could grasp the gist of, it was definitely lost in translation. It sounded like Russian but all he knew was, âWhere is the bathroom?â Suddenly the outlaws numbers increased as more burst through the door.
The next few moments were like a deus ex machina arriving in some shitty Greek tragedy. Because it was not policemen who arrived on the scene but some very angry townsfolk with guns ( and here always thought the Australia had banned guns, but apparently you could get your hands on them when needed).
Soundly the bartender jumped on the bar and yelled, âDo no harm in this bar.â
One of the angry townsfolk replied, âFor the greater good let what needs to be done, be done.â
âThat man is weasel and a thief and he was born to run, but his legs have strength no more, but we can have mercy, if he has our money,â she replied.
Scared shitless, seemingly at rate, the con man spoke up, âI will take you to where I bury it.â
And it was like a great exodus that Moses should have led because everyone in the bar just blankly rose and followed without question. Except myself, my employer, the young tramp keeping him company and the bartender.
âWhat the heck is that all about?â
âItâs a long story. But long story short is that he better have that money or wherever he is taking them is going to be his final resting place.â
To be continued?
Very nice Cocoa…damn this looks hard…
Really nice job!
Im going to at least try and make something happen with this…I already feel frusrated, lol…
Well, call me a Lost geek too…I got something together, but I must say, I exceeded the word limit, and cant bring myself to take anything out…1629 words…and all season one titles included within.
This was a great idea cocoa, I did the first season as well…a completely different story though.
I tried to stay “LOST”, but capture a great source of influence on it…and mesh them together for something ridiculous, lol…
Ill probably post this here, but make a whole separate post with it as well, leading eventually to making one for each season…keep in mind that I am not an editor…let me know what you think…
Again great idea…and where in the hell do you find friends that like to do this kind of stuff…?
“Wishing Away Wonderland…”
As she reviewed the script for âThe Pilot: Part OneââŚshe knew it was wrong and that âThe Pilot:
Part Twoâ would do much better by her own hand. Upon thinking this, Alice dropped the ‘script’,
which looked much like an old book, onto the ground.
âThese writers these daysâŚâ She said to herself. âI would rather play the role in nothing more
than a âTabula Rasaâ than do something like that. Potions and red queensâŚI need none of them.
Might I take my daily âwalkaboutâ and think things through properly, for I do not wish to act in
haste.”
But to not allow the story to play out could result in tragic consequences, but Alice was none the
wiser. So when the âWhite Rabbitâ approached, she turned a cold shoulder as he looked queerly at
her, as if to say she has no choice, resistance, but not choice. As she walked, she was singing a
song to herself, as if no care in the world for the hareâŚ
â-Oh tell my baby sister
not to do what I have done
But shun that house in New Orleans
they call theâŚâ
âDYLAN DID IT BEST!!!â she heard from behind.
She wanted to ignore, but she knew she would just grow curiouser and curiouser if she didnât
respondâŚ
âWhat?â She asked annoyed.
âThe House of the Rising Sun. Its what you were singingâŚBob Dylan did it best.â
âI donât know what you are talking aboutâ, shouted Alice. âI would nevAr sing that. I was singing
âTwinkle Twinkle Little Batâ, as my sister and I so sometimes sing. Now bugger off you, I am
TRYING to enjoy my day.
âYou have to come. You cannot ignore it. It calls for you, and always will my dearâ, said the rabbit
almost sadly.
âI donât have to do anythingâ, said Alice.
Just then something floated through the view of Alice as the little squiggly lines do when you have
your eyes closed and look into light. Alice focused her eyes, and pulled back a little. She looked at
the object, then at the rabbit.
âWhat will happen if I donât go, if I donât follow? Will the the sky fade away, will the world end, will this tiny creature disappear?â She looked smug now, it was not becoming of Alice.
âNoâ, replied the rabbit. âThe sky will not fade awayâŚbut it may not be blue. The world will not
end, but it may not be the same. And âthe mothâ will not disappear, but it will nevar become a
beautiful butterfly.â
âHave âconfidence manâ!â said Alice, a little intrigued by the rabbits seeming necessity of her
company.
âMAN!â Shouted the rabbit. âFor I am no âMAN, in all truthâŚI am not even hereâ, he said as he
looked up at the sky that didnât fade awayâŚand remained blue.
Aliceâs eyes followed his into the heavens, and after realizing her hypnosis, she quickly looked
down to find herself again in âsolitaryââŚand ever so confused.
Alice decided to continue her journey alone as planned. She walked past a house that she had
seen many times, but never the occupant of the home. There were flowers that lay dead, being
seemingly resurrected by whom Alice assumed the owner. He was touching the flowers one by
one, and as he did, the flowers sprang to life in an unimaginable speed. With the simple contact of
his finger, a beautiful rose would rise, then, just as quickly as the first rose was risen by his touch,
the next rose was âraised by anotherâ. The man was short and tall, skinny and wide. He had a
color on that Alice couldnât quite place.
âMy sir, what color is that wonderful hat you have on?â She asked standing a substantial distance
away.
âWhatever color you want it to be my dear.â The man in the hat answered, now right in front of her.
âDo you have trouble with your father sir?â asked Alice with the most troubled look on her face.
âNevar have, why do you ask?â
âBecause I have read that all the best cowboys have daddy issues, and since youâre wearing a âŚâ
âIts not a cowboy hatâ, interrupted the hat wearer.
âThen what kind is it?â asked Alice.
âWhatever kind I wish it to be, so âwhatever the case may beâ it doesn’t matter, because Iâm not
even wearing a hatâ
Alice looked up to see a patch of hair..she was just about to ask about the colorâŚ
âYou ask a lot of questions, now allow me to ask one of you. What do you call a Mad HatterâŚwith
no hat?â
ââMAD?â, Alice asked and answered at the same time.
âIndeedâ, answered MAD. âMad indeed.â
âBut why are you mad sir?â Alice asked.
âIâm mad!?!?â exclaimed and asked MAD. âYouâre the one talking to yourself.â And he was gone
when Alice took the longest blink of her life.
Alice continued on until she was grabbed by a crown wearing woman in a cape covered in what
appeared to resemble a sort of playing card.
âWho are you?â Alice exclaimed.
âIâm the âQueen of Hearts and Mindsâ. You have missed your âspecialâ party, and HE is not happy.
âHearts…AND MINDS? What party? And who in the world is HE?â asked Alice, who realized that she
did indeed ask a lot of questions once she thought about it.
âYou made me the queen of minds too, because you wouldnât give your heart, he had to get to
you through your mind.He isnât happy, and he has to be happy. But more importantly⌠the partyâŚ
your party. âWhat partyâ?!?” she asked and exclaimed…then answered, âWhy your âhomecomingâ party my dearâŚwaitâŚdonât you know?â
âKnow? Know whatâ Alice asked, becoming curiouser and curiouser.
âYou became attached to the âoutlawsâ the moment you dropped âthe scriptâ, and insulted the
creator.”
Alice knew she was in trouble. Was there no way for her to not do what we all know she is
supposed to do? Can she not ever have her own choice? Do we make the choice for her every
time we open the book ourselves?
Alice said the first thing she could think, “Quinqueâ, she said out loud.
âWhat did you say?â asked the queen.
âQuinqueâŚâ Alice said again, âIts Latin⌠or “in translationâ to EnglishâŚfive!â exclaimed Alice. âItâs
one of the numbers that fall between four and six, and I use it to escape sometimesâŚshall I
translate that into Latin for you your majesty?â
The queen eyed Alice, I have a translation for you my dearâŚâDeus Ex Machinaâ, are you able to
translate that young lady? Are you able to understand why I am the not just the queen of hearts,
but of minds as well?â
âIt is you that must understand the translation, with all due respect. Using a machine to pretend
to be godâŚdoes not make you godâŚwith all due respect your majesty. Although you may be able
to push me, it will âdo no harmâ. For I still stand for the âgreater goodâ, and for all that are LOST
to your rabbit hole you call âhomeâ. Like the rabbit, I was âborn to runâ free. And just as I freed
him, I shall free myself whenever I choose.â
The Queen was red faced and without crown now. âDo you believe you are free my dear? Do you
believe that you are in control?â
The queen was screaming by this point. She had tired of playing Aliceâs game. She had tired of
playing her own game. The Queen of Hearts and Minds, formerly the Queen of Hearts, had lost her
love and was tired of playing any game at all.
âI am in control said Alice. I have always been in controlâŚI just didnât know it. By throwing that
scriptâŚthat bookâŚthat other life on the ground, I became free of anything that you or anyone else
wants or EXPECTS me to do. But you are correct about one thingâŚthis is my home. And at this
point I would like you to leave nowâ, Alice said sternly as she opened a door. âYou and all your
other hearts and minds can make their âexodusâ here, your majesty.â
The queen looked around, and realized she was in a house, which apparently was Aliceâs, and was
standing in front of the main entry door.
ââExodusâ!?!â asked and exclaimed the queen, who Alice realized was the one asking the questions
now.
âWho do you think you are to tell me to leave anywhere?!?!â asked and exclaimed the queen again.
âMy name is AliceâŚand donât bother, you already leftâ, Alice said, as the queen took the longest
blink of her life, and realized she was now standing in the dark, on the outside of the door.
âYouâll never get away with thisâ, yelled the queen.
âNevar say Nevarâ, said Alice, as she closed the door in the queenâs face, and turned on a light in
the room.
Alice pet her beautiful cat, and âheâ was so happy to have her home⌠and ‘he’ has to be happy. ‘He’ almost seemed to have a smile so wide it resembled a slice of mango, and as Alice walked across the room, she ran her hand along his entire, very long body, and the queens banging began to desist.
As Alice reached her destination, she listened to the last words she would ever here the queen
say, and responded the last time she would ever have to respond.
âThere are rules Alice, rules that must be followed. You are not supposed to be here, in factâŚYou
canât be here!â
Alice stared at herself one last time in the looking glass that night, and gave a faint little smile as
she said, âDonât tell me what I canât doâŚâ
Then Alice closed her eyes, and slowly counted to five.
I find my Lost friends on forums just like this and from school and work, Lost has a very diverse fan base, hell,there are even Lost fantasy leagues, but I prefer just to take a drink every time Hurley says, ‘dude’ or Sawyer says son of bitch.