Great new game going around. I started playing over at InnerDorothy's
Please post a comment with a COMPLETELY MADE UP AND FICTIONAL MEMORY OF YOU AND ME. It can be anything you want--good or bad--BUT IT HAS TO BE FAKE. When you're finished, post this paragraph on your blog and be surprised (or mortified) about what people DON'T ACTUALLY remember about you.
...THe fundamental things apply. As time goes by.
Ah Gord, how can I forget that summer we took your Harley out to the west coast to protest clear-cutting? Good times. Who bailed us out anyway?
ReplyDeleteJust remember: a friend will always put up the bail money, but a TRUE friend will sit next to you in the cell and say "Damn, that was fun!"
The loose top step near the roof was most unfortunate. I had meant to have it repaired, but the bats insisted repeatedly on a having a warning sound near their roosting spot, and an electronic system was simply out of our price range. The diamonds are safe, however, in a numbered account in Tierra del Fuego. I wasn't to tell you this, but I felt I had to override Montressor on this one. It is only fair that as the decoy, you get your fair share of rewards, having assumed your share of the risks. Esperanza made it out; Neronius didn't. Remember the rendezvous agreed upon in the Baltic. The venue has been changed: it is no longer the yellow and red oil drilling rig, it's the--
ReplyDeleteI know who bailed you out! Apparently Songbird has all the bail money.
ReplyDeleteThat reminds me...Gord, what happened to you after you left Cucamonga? I'm left standing there by myself while you get in the purple bus. Man, did I feel foolish just standing there, by the side of the road, in a gorilla costume...
Or how about that time when you told me about that wardrobe that would transport me to a magical land? I went inside, expecting to meet Mr. Tumnus and Aslan... and it turns out it was a porta-potty. Which you then locked me and promptly knocked over with a bulldozer. Oh man. Those were the days, back when we used to summer in Guam...
ReplyDeleteRevmom, I appreciate your sacrifice, but Flannery O'Connor continued to write misanthropic fiction afterward.
ReplyDeleteWOW! who knew my life had been so interesting. All those funny cigarettes Sue gave me on that trip seem to have blocked out my memory.
ReplyDeleteOh and MArk, you must have made a wrong turn. That port-potty led me directly to Cair Paravel. I wondered where you had gotten to.
I remember the time we got matching haircuts--we both wanted to look punk with our Mohawks. Your purple was a perfect choice. I should have gone with the permanent dye, though. I had green ears for weeks after we jumped in the fountain.
ReplyDelete