@cbishop: Ok.
FYI You still have about 16 hours left to write something up.
stumpy49er's forum posts
Tell It All- Three Tales of Tomfoolery
“Hello, one and all. It is I, your foolish narrator, Tell It All.”
A pot bellied hobo clown came tumbling on the rickety stage, which was near the old train tracks and lit by an old, rundown truck. The audience was made up of blue collar workers and homeless children drinking whiskey and looking for cheap entertainment.
Tell It All wore white base with blue makeup around his eyes and mouth, forming a frown. He wore old suspenders and a baggy, plaid, green pants and a too tight, brown blazer top.
He reached deep into his pants and pulled out an old vodka bottle, pulling off the top and drowning the contents. He let out a painful belch and the audience roared with laughter.
“I am Tell It All, the drunken clown, your fool of a narrator. I am the sultan of saggy pants, the God of got nuthin’, the Djinn of drinking gin and the King of killin’ time. I am the royalty of regrets..”
“Get on with it already, ya bozo!” yelled a burly heckler.
Tell It All stopped and looked down at the large man.
“Hrumph.. You are a big one, aren’t you?”
The heckler cracked his knuckles. “Damn straight.”
“Musta hurt yer mom, coming out.”
The heckler burst out laughing. “Yep. I killed her.”
The audience groaned.
“On with the show.”
Tell It All threw a red ball into the air, which exploded, creating a fiery, sparkling energy.
“My first tale is of a regretful clown living in the past and overwhelmed by the future.”
As he spoke the fiery energy began to form into images of a jester, sitting on a swing, his makeup white and his suit green and red.
The Comedy of Coulda the Clown
Coulda the Clown sat on the swing in the children’s park, his head resting on his palms as he sighed, wondering his life got to this point. He reached into his pocket and pulled out an old picture of his ex wife, Woulda the Woman Clown. She wore a pink and yellow jester’s outfit and had red hair.
“Wish you were here, Woulda.” Coulda sighed.
“You still on the job, clown or are you taking a crap?” yelled a middle aged, business man.
“Back to work.” Coulda sighed to himself, then sprang up out of the swing.
“Hey kiddos, did you forget about me? I forget things too. Just like I forgot to bring my clown car. I coulda brought all my clown friends. Coulda, woulda, shoulda!”
The kids laughed as Coulda did a backflip.
A female voice shouted out.
“He didn’t forget all his clown friends.”
Coulda’s heart skipped a beat. ‘Woulda?’
A young girl with auburn hair and a white, frilly shirt and shorts, with a yellow and blue plaid vest, and yellow and red tights and a matching yellow and red crown jumped out of the bushes.
Coulda’s heart sank. This girl was not Woulda. She was about twenty years younger. He didn’t know this jester.
“Don’t you recognize me? I’m your daughter, Shoulda the She Clown.”
The audience gasped.
Coulda gulped, confused. “What?”
She did a backflip in front of the children.
“Old man Coulda over there didn’t know his ex wife Woulda, my sweet mom, ran away with me when I was born..
I coulda grown up with a father. Coulda, woulda, shoulda!”
The children laughed.
“La fin.”
Tell It All ended the tale. “Heh, old man Coulda is in for a treat. Ain’t easy being an absent father. I’d know. I am Tell It All, the admiral of absentee parenting.”
One of the drunk, homeless children with freckles and red hair looked up at Tell It All.
“Are you my dad?”
“Back to the show!” Tell It All yelled out.
“This next tale is of a more.. political lean.”
The audience groaned.
“Now, now. Give it a shot.”
The energy ball began to form, showing a young, intelligent looking man wearing a baggy suit and very detailed red, white and blue makeup.
The Lament of Linger the Lampooner
Linger ran towards the rally with fire in his heart and issues on his mind. He saw his best friend, Collin Collegekid waving a sign reading ‘Lynch our Over Lords’.
His girlfriend, Grass Heart, was on stage.
“President Powertrip doesn’t care about nature. He doesn’t care about the grass under our feet or the downtrodden under his trod. He cares more about oil tycoons than he does cute, little racoons. He cares more about big pharma than he does little bunnies on the farm. He cares.. He cares more about his penis than he cares about vegans. He.. um..”
“I’ll take it from here, babe.” Linger said as he jumped onstage.
“I don’t need a man to take charge.” Grass Heart yelled. “I am vegan, hear me ROAR!”
Then she streaked naked and ran off the stage, into the wild, never to be seen again.
Linger did a backflip, then grabbed the mike.
“President Powertrip. What can we say about the man?” Linger yelled, then he turned away from the audience and began re-adjusting his makeup. “Let’s let the man himself say what’s on his mind.”
Linger turned around and his makeup was detailed in a way that each line looked exactly like President Powertrip, except each flaw was more pronounced and every defining feature more exaggerated.
“I am President Pervis Powertrip.” Lingers voice changed to match the Presidents. “I am here to divide and conquer. I will spread fear among you, the people, for my own gains. Being President was always about what was in it for me. And preying on the weak is all I need to gain what I want. And what I want is more. Always more. You weak minded sheep will blame your follies on other poor people of a different color. I will tear down your rights and further increase the power of my people. And my people is ME.”
The speech continued for another hour, the longer Linger lampooned President Powertrip, the more he sounded and looked like the politician.
Then a shot rang out.
Linger the Lampooner fell from the stage.
His best friend Collin held a gun in his hand, with a stunned look on his face.
“Oops! You did such a good impression I thought you were the real thing. I should probably lay off the weed for awhile. You okay, Linger?”
Linger looked at his wound. Blood rushed from his chest.
“I’m dying. Tell Grass Heart I respected her as a person. Collin, you were a terrible friend. Everyone else. Change the world for the better. Go vegan!”
Linger died.
But his words did not.
The world changed that day. President Powertrip became vegan. Everyone did. The world became a happy place. Oil tycoons hugged cute, little racoons. Big pharma gave way to little farm. Grass Heart roamed the forest until she met a tall, dark and handsome tree. They had three children and lived happily ever after.
“The End.”
Tell It All stood up straight with his arms out wide. Proud of his story.
The audience stood quietly.
The burly heckler yelled out. “What’s a vegan?”
The red haired boy asked “How did she have kids with a tree? Is the tree my dad?”
A dark haired prostitute yelled out “That was awful! Worst story I ever hear.”
Another heckler yelled “The first one wasn’t that good either.”
The audience began to grow angry. “Your stories are terrible.”
Tell It All waved the audience down. “All right, all right. Calm yourselves. Just one more tale. I saved the best for last.”
The crowd’s murmur began to die down.
The raven haired prostitute yelled out “Better be good. Otherwise I’m telling my man, Stinky, to get our money back.”
The burly heckler, Stinky, cracked his knuckles again as he smirked at Tell It All.
“Like I said. Best for last.” Tell It All said.
The fiery ball of energy began to swirl again, this time it began forming into the faces of the people in the crowd, from Stinky to the red haired boy, to the raven haired prostitute and all the rest.
“I call this tale..”
The Anecdote of the Accursed Audience
Stinky yelled out “That’s my face. Wot’s this about?” He turned to the prostitute. “Hey Cordelia. What’s he doing?”
Cordelia gave him a mean look. “I don’t know. Just kick his ass and get our money back.”
Stinky stormed onto the stage ready to punch Tell It All in the face. The clown smiled and pulled out a flask, taking a swig and stumbling backwards.
Stinky swung and missed, falling off the stage. The crowd gasped.
Stinky tumbled and jumped up in the air with a smile and a laugh.
The audience laughed as well.
“What’s so funny?” Cordelia yelled. “Stinky, what games you playing?”
Stinky turned to her. She fell backwards. He face was covered in clown makeup.
The rest of the crowd looked at her. They all had clown makeup on. She pulled out her old, handheld mirror and saw that she too had clown makeup on.
Cordelia laughed with the rest of the crowd.
The red haired orphan boy, also wearing clown makeup, walked onstage towards Tell It All.
“Are you my daddy?”
“Yes. You are my child. You are all my children.”
The swirling ball of fiery energy grew to the size of the stage, creating a portal.
Carnival music played beyond it as the crowd could see gigantic tents and a gargantuan ferris wheel.
The crowd entered the portal and walked towards Tell It All’s Carnival of Clowns. Stinky tumbled inside, while Cordelia flipped through the air and the red haired boy floated in on a balloon.
Tell It All was the last to leave. Before he fell backwards into the disappearing portal he turned and looked out at no one in particular.
“And so I say goodbye. It is I, Tell It All, your humble narrator. The Devil of don’t tell anyone else what I told you, unless our want to join our Carnival as well.”
**
La Fin
Welcome to the 84th Character Creation Contest!
Occurring once per month, these are the contests where writers test their might and wills.
A battle of the imaginations! A contest of creativity! The wills of the writers!
I bring to you ladies and gentlemen, a new contest.
For this contest I challenge you, one and all, to create a brand new character, from your very own imagination. Not just any character, mind you. This character shall be a jester.
That's not all folks. I also want you to implement a jest in your story. A prank shall incur within your tale.
Now, as to how the prank occurs or to whom it is on is entirely up to you, the writers. The jest can be of the jesters doing, it can be a prank on the jester, perhaps the jester just narrates the jest or it can happen entirely without the jesters involvement.
Use you creativity.
Now for the rules:
What are the rules?
Let's see.. rules:
Let's go ahead and make this due on April the First. April Fools!
Probably around noonish.
Word limit: I'm going to need at least four thousand two hundred words. But no more than Four thousand two hundred and one word.
I joke, of course.
Actual Rules
Stories are due within two weeks. April 13th at 11:59 pm Pacific time zone.
No word limit.
Create a Jester and a Jest.
Be creative and have fun!
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