I said I'd post the results of the crowd sourced story on Friday. Today is Thursday. I have failed you!
The thing is, the thing was getting much too big for one post, so I decided to split it into two parts. Part 1 today, part 2 tomorrow. Your sentences have been highlighted in yellow just to prove that I have included them. Just remember, you bought this on yourselves, okay?
It’s difficult to comprehend how the end of the world came around from such humble beginnings. The event that kicked off the apocalypse began in the lobby of 123 Juniper Street, with the front door being opened, and a diminutive dog being launched onto the pavement at high velocity.
The man behind this casual canine abuse was Dave Davidson, or Luigi to his friends. He acquired this curious nickname at school by being the tallest kid in the class, and his ability to grow a luscious black moustache by the age of 10. Also, his attraction to green overalls didn’t help either. As for the dog, that was Luigi’s brand new pet, which had a penchant for spraying his new furniture with sexual excretions. At once, Luigi regretted buying the rampant Chihuahua when his apartment that he'd bought for tying up young women became heavily covered in dog juice, but it was great for picking up ladies.
It was through this tiny mongrel that Luigi had met his new flame. He’d bumped into Jo while walking his overgrown rat in the local park. There, they sat and chatted the hours away, people watching and sharing their innermost secrets. Luigi shared his intimate knowledge of the birds and the bees that he’d learned last week from a pamphlet, and finished his overwrought chat up line with “and that’s were babies come from”.
Their whirlwind romance grew stronger and stronger over the next few days. Jo assisted Luigi in curbing his lady-kidnapping tendencies, and in return, he stopped trying to lock her in the basement. Through a curious blend of infatuation and Stockholm syndrome, their romance quickly grew until Luigi finally proposed after only 5 days. Inside the apartment, Jo was already deciding on a colour scheme for the wedding as Luigi re-entered after ejecting his dog.
“What colour flowers should we have? Pink or purple?”
“Uhhhh, pink” guessed Luigi, as his thoughts quickly turned to other matters. Approaching her in an amorous fashion, he hugged her from behind, his head next to her ear.
“Hey wifey. How about giving your future husband an early wedding present?”
She sighed with a grudging reluctance. Jo detested the thought of having her mans stubbly sack scrape at her chin like glass paper as she swallowed his pride, but duty called. She turned to him, knelt down and began undoing his zipper.
“No, not that. I was referring to this.”
Luigi held up a copy of his favourite DVD, shaking the disc around in the case like cold rattlesnake with Parkinsons. Looking at the title, Jo would have preferred to guzzle a gallon of mangravy rather than watch 10 minutes of that blubbery horseshit.
“My favourite part is when they are crowned kings of the world” proclaimed Luigi as his fiancée placed the DVD in the player.
“No, they don’t actually become kings. That’s just Leo DiCaprio’s character exclaiming how he feels while standing on the bow of a ship with the love of his life.”
“We’ll see.” Muttered Luigi. The intelligence gap between the two lovers was glaringly obvious.
Just then, their television viewing was abruptly interrupted by a flying brick. The brick shattered their front window, scattering glass shards across the room. Coincidentally, those shards landed on Jo’s wedding planner in such a manner, that it later gave her the inspiration for the diamante pattern she wanted for her dress. But right now, more pressing matters were afoot. The pair studied the brick as a Neanderthal would an iPad. Who was responsible for this abrupt attack?
“Aha! Stagged ya!”
The answer came in the form of Bill Bishop, Luigi’s oldest friend and party animal extraordinaire. To their surprise, Bill climbed through the broken window, and then kicked Luigi straight in the balls.
“Stagged you again!”
“Stop it! What are you doing?!” pleaded Jo.
“What? I’m here for his stag do. So I’m ‘stagging’ him”
Despite this physical assault, Bill didn’t exactly cut a menacing figure. To say he was short was a slight understatement. There were rollercoasters that he wasn’t technically able to ride. As such, Jo tried to restrain him as her husband regained his composure and rose to his feet.
“It’s alright” reassured Luigi “me and Bill are going to have a few drinks tonight. You know, last night of freedom and all that. We’re just going to nip out for a couple of quiet drinks, and then we’ll be home before you know it.”
“Stag! Stag! Stag!” agreed Bill. He attempted to throw a bottle of beer to his buddy, but it flew wildly off course and hit the back wall, simultaneously smashing to pieces and lowering the property’s value by £1290.
“Alright, you boys can go. Just don’t do anything reckless.”
With only a minimal amount of whooping and hollering, the boys departed on their night out leaving Jo alone. She took Titanic out of DVD player, replaced it with her favourite movie; Fisting Fireman 5, then settled down amongst the broken glass for an evening of light indulgence.
Later, upon discovering a majority of the animal crackers were meager sheep, Bill hesitantly pressed a Colt .45 against his temple.
“This is depressing” exclaimed Luigi. “What are we doing here? No one else has turned up to my stag, and we’re sat here drinking knock off beer behind an off license and eating children’s biscuits”
Bill lowered the gun. Shooting himself now would undoubtedly cause the excitement they desperately needed, but it would be cruel to leave his best friend alone on his stag do. Who would kick him in the bollocks if he wasn’t there? Putting the gun away, he turned to Luigi. “So what do you want to do?”
“You’re my best man! You’re supposed to organise it!”
Studying his internal A-Z of the area proved slightly difficult when under the influence, but Bill scanned the local area in his brain for points of interest. He vaguely recalled a contemporary theatre that was supposed to be rather decent. There was an independent cinema that screened the latest Bulgarian romancic show pieces. There was also a botanical garden in which they study exotic flora and fauna.
“Dunno. Strip club?”
Sighing heavily, Luigi reluctantly agreed, allowing Bill to lead on to this fleshy establishment. They zig zagged through several backstreets that Luigi wasn’t familiar with. Stepping over several dead cats, and an array of small, bitey mammals, they encountered a tramp who kept eyeballing them. While he'd never win any awards for his verbal sarcasm, his eyebrow trash-talk was second to none. The pair decided to leave this homeless gent lest they be sucked into a facial hair battle rap, and continued through the omnipresent alleyways.
A little while later, Bill suddenly came to a halt outside a boarded up back door. The building looked abandoned. You could almost hear the rats fornicating in the walls. Presenting his arm, Bill gestured as though they had reached their destination, like the world’s drunkest TomTom. Grudgingly, Luigi tried the door. It didn’t budge an inch. He turned to Bill and shrugged.
“Oh. No problem mate. Wait here, I’ll find a way in” and with that, Bill staggered off into the gloom in search of a solution.
Cold and alone, Luigi started to feel uncomfortable. He felt like there was someone watching him. He swivelled around to see the earlier hobo approaching him, with menace in his brow. As he approached in a threatening manner, hands prone as though he was about to feel some breasts for the first time in fifty years, the tramp spoke.
“It was in France that I first painted Betty White in the nude, after hours of passionate lovemaking. How would you like to be my new Betty?”
After calling for Bill, then his mother, Luigi decided his best solution was to kick the door down and escape. A swift boot made short work of the rotten wood, splintering apart to fashion a spiky plank, which could be brandished as a weapon. Luigi picked up the wood and swung it heartily at his foe.
“Ow! Jesus! It was just a question! If you’re not interested, just say so!” And with that, Hobo Joe fled to the solace of his flea-riddled bed sack. Feeling a little foolish and cruel, Luigi realised he’d created an entrance to the building. Since Bill was still nowhere to be seen, he decided to climb inside.
It was pitch black in there. As his ears started to become his most highly prioritised sense, he edged further and further into the darkness. He could hear scuttling noises in every direction. Listening intently, he thought he could also hear whispers.
Suddenly, this train of thought was interrupted by a searing pain across the top of his head. The kind of pain you get if you’ve had your brains bashed in with a blunt object. He collapsed on the floor and passed out in the darkness.