Discussion → New Topic!

  • Red.thumb
    Erin Zulkoski
    Mar 24, 02:11am

    Courtesy of Mary Alston Capps: today's topic is.....

    Have fun, my little Fictionaughties!

  • S._tepper--nov--lighter.thumb
    Susan Tepper
    Mar 27, 03:08pm

    Oh, I didn't realize there were TOPICS, duh, forgive me. I will write something on the new topic Literal.

  • Me2.thumb
    Lynn Beighley
    Mar 27, 04:31pm

    There are no rules, only desires.

  • Red.thumb
    Erin Zulkoski
    Mar 27, 07:14pm

    Lynn is right: the first rule of The Fictionaughties is there are no rules.

  • Dark.thumb
    Mar 28, 05:32am

    Oops I missed the topic too, though maybe the most recent "story" of mine fits in some way too. OK, I feel a b.s. coming on, although that got me through a lot of schooling, but I won't do that here. Fun group Erin.

  • L%20strattner%20photo.thumb
    Larry Strattner
    Jun 13, 03:18am

    I had heard about this “literal” thing. At least I thought I had while eavesdropping on my sister and her friends as they screeched and giggled about their stupid boyfriends and their little “things.” I looked up literal and it meant the primary meaning, or free from exaggeration or embellishment, concerned mainly with facts or word-for-word, which I found implausible given Bobby Litzky’s description of Sue Scroggin’s pussy and the high frequency girl-screams during someone in my sister’s crowd recounting Bobby’s pecker when aroused.
    How “literal” fit into this I couldn’t fathom. I looked it up again and it was meaningless. I figured I must have mistaken it for some other word. The rhyming dictionary provided occipital, anti- scriptural, cloistral and collateral, along with about ninety six other words making no sense, and I guessed, likely not in the vocabulary of sixteen year old girls.
    The mystery hen-party conversation stuck in my mind for years as I dated girls and women who never consented to go out with me a second time. Then one addled night I told the story to a stripper who consented to have an early morning coffee with me after I stuffed a lengthwise-folded fifty into the top of her butt crack.
    When I finished the account of my youthful adventure, and after the stripper untangled herself from the counter stools at Waffle House where she fell while laughing, she whispered a word in my ear along with some brief instructions. I looked at her running mascara and she nodded, “yes,” almost unable to contain herself. I did not get laid, fifty bucks notwithstanding.
    However, the little Merriam Webster moment in the cheesy diner changed my life. Since following the tear stain-stained, laughing dancer’s instructions, literally, I have become a happy man.

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