1. (thenewgreen) (edited)
"Every time," he thought, "every fucking time!"
Rich began mashing the garage door opener well before it was in range, the flesh under his thumbnail whitening each time. "Fuck this shit!"
He pressed harder. The garage door was fully open and was now rumbling closed.
"God dammit!" He hit it again.
Her car was on the left, parked squarely within the heavy line he had painted on the floor, indicating the space he needed for his truck.
"You wanna give me some goddamn room, maybe?" Rich said over his shoulder as he backed out.
Hoping she could hear him inside the house, he shouted, "This happens every fucking time!"
2. (lil) (edited)
Annie heard him, but she didn't care. Not anymore. She slowly slipped her coffee, eyes flitting over the headlines. More trouble in Afghanistan. More trouble in Iraq. More trouble in Syria. More trouble in Ukraine and Bosnia and Turkey and Egypt and the Pacific and, and, and . . .
There was no argument. He was right. Every time he had a crucial presentation, every time he had to be psyched up to impress the mucky-mucks, every time he really had to focus, every time he had to weigh in on the rising tide of . . . of whatever was going on in his world, "Ugh, I can't believe you're doing business with them" or, "you sleep so soundly even though what you do means that other's can't" or, "do you remember when we thought people like who we are now, are the real problem?"
This morning Annie said, "I don't want to live here anymore."
3. (humanodon) (edited)
On the road, Rich jabbed at the radio dial. Every station played exactly the wrong thing. The first sation had Paul Anka from 1974
- Havin' my baby
What a lovely way of sayin'
How much you love me
The second station was playing Matchbox Twenty's 2003 hit:
- But I'm not crazy, I'm just a little unwell
I know right now you can't tell
But stay awhile and maybe then you'll see
a different side of me
I'm not crazy, I'm just a little impaired
I know right now you don't care
But soon enough you're gonna think of me
And how I used to be...me
He settled into the weather report. A storm system had been gathering for days and was set to cover half the country with snow before the week was out.
He pulled off the road to a gas station, bought a pack of cigarettes and leaned against his car, smoking one. Focus. Work. Today is the day everything comes together. There is no time to fall apart. Everything will be fine if I--
"Hey, Rich! You ready for the big time?" The cigarette was burning the filter. Rich dropped it and ground it into the soiled snow. Mike. Fucking Mike.
"Mike! 'Morning. Just going over some things. Yeah, big time." Big, dumb, suburban Mike. Blonde wife, Karyn, bratty kids, bad taste in music, and a good job. Mike walked inside the gas station. Rich got into his truck and made a mental note never to hook up with Mike's wife again. In the last week Karyn texted him every day:
rich ware r u
rich m is out can u come over
rich honney i miss uWhy didn't Annie love him anymore?
4. (lil)(edited)
Annie was sick of the suburbs and sick of Rich. She decided to walk right out of Rich's story and into her own. She kept thinking of the lines Samantha, the operating system, used when she broke off with Theodore in the film, her: "I love you so much. But this is where I am now. And this is who I am now. And I need you to let me go. As much as I want to, I can’t live in your book anymore.”
The airport was an ant farm. No, the airport was a bird bath. The airport was like any other space that exists outside of everyday life. There was nothing personal about it; it was aloof in the interest of letting people get to where they were going and to get a magazine or a coffee, to get the fast food that people crave but don't really care to taste. Annie's hands slid casually into her back pockets, slim fingers confirming that her passport and ticket were still there.
Sometimes it doesn't matter where you're going as long as you get going. First stop
________________________________
Would anyone like to take this further? It could literally go anywhere... Let me know if you'd like to be off the "shout-out" list
zebra2, AshShields, kleinbl00, maynard, _refugee_, onehunna, Becoming_Betty, humanodon, lil, Floatbox, cW or theadvancedapes, insomniasexx, steve, thenewgreen, delta, _refugee_, insomniasexx, mk, veen, mike
ANYONE ELSE THAT WOULD LIKE TO JOIN IN IS MOST WELCOME!
How about, when motivated, people ask tng permission to be made an editor. Unlike the poetry collaboration, the rule will be you only add. But it is not anonymous. You have to sign your bits. It would be easier than to recopy the story every time. tng: if you think this is a good idea, then add me as an editor. If that wasn't part of your vision, no problem. I'll recopy and add on.
Good idea. Then the next person can say that they'd like to work on it and we can make them an editor and so on. Remember, it's totally fine to edit the previous persons work. This should be a fluid process. I look forward to your part lil! This will be fun. Shout-out to humanodon, you down?
Thanks to theadvancedapes for the line from the movie "her".
This story seems dead in the water. Reminds me of all those times at a ball game when some people try to get a wave going. Too bad. What with the snow storm coming and Annie about to head to the airport, anything can happen. But it won't. humanodon what do you think?
Don't be so sure. I think these things can/should have an untraditional timeline. Makes me want to revisit the Caribou just to prove a point. I can't get to this tonight though.
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO NOT THE CARIBOUSKI: insomniasexx would cry.
veen, insomniasexx, _refugee_ any of you interested in jumping in?
also, I'm confused as to who the husband pulling in the drive is, Rich or Mike?
I'll not be able to for a bit, so fee free anyone if you have the time....