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Post by maggiethecat on May 20, 2007 17:13:17 GMT -5
I shoud probably put this in the fic section -- since it does involves imaginative writing and not actual series content -- but the fic threads are hopping these days and I didn't want this to get lost. So let's call it a game . . . 
MODIFIED TO ADD: Ths really is fic, albeit a fic game, so I'm moving it.
Have you always wanted to try your hand at a spot of Blind Justice writing but, somehow, the idea of plotting out a whole story seemed a little intimidating? Here’s a way to dip your toes in the pool and have a little fun at the same time.
I am proposing a Round Robin add-as-you-go story. I envision an exercise in inventiveness, a group endeavor, and, it is devoutly to be wished, a chance to be downright silly. You get 100 words and not one word more, even if it means stopping in the middle of a sentence (which could be pretty funny, actually). If you go over 100 words? Heh. Maggie the editorially-minded admin will delete anything exceeding the word count, so be warned!
The rules are these: You can post twice a day, but you must wait until two other contributors have posted before posting again. This, of course, is to give everyone an equal chance. Copy/Paste the previous entry, add your 100 words, and post. As a consideration to fellow board members, please proofread your spelling, grammar and punctuation before posting. As I said, humor is encouraged; inappropriate content is not, nor is taking the story in a direction no one can follow or add to. When the story reaches what all agree is an entertaining conclusion, we can start another. ;D
I’ll begin. The moment Detective Jim Dunbar entered the squad room that morning he knew something was not right. The room was icy, as though the heating system had suddenly gone on strike during the night, and there was an odd smell in the air. Beside him Hank whined softly, his ears laid back. “Hello?” Jim called out. “Karen? Boss?” Silence. A door banged somewhere in the distance. Suddenly, the air was split by a shrill scream. Quickly, Jim’s hand went to his hip; then, of course, he remembered his gun was at home in the nightstand. “Shit,” he muttered. “What now?”
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Post by Chris on May 21, 2007 11:34:06 GMT -5
Ok, I will give it a try, If my grammar is halting, feel free to edit it. Great idea, Maggie, very karmaworthy ;D - Chris  The moment Detective Jim Dunbar entered the squad room that morning he knew something was not right. The room was icy, as though the heating system had suddenly gone on strike during the night, and there was an odd smell in the air. Beside him Hank whined softly, his ears laid back. “Hello?” Jim called out. “Karen? Boss?” Silence. A door banged somewhere in the distance. Suddenly, the air was split by a shrill scream. Quickly, Jim’s hand went to his hip; then, of course, he remembered his gun was at home in the nightstand. “Shit,” he muttered. “What now?” A moment later Karen entered the squad room complaining "I took a shower and suddenly there was no hot water!!" "What's that smell?" Jim asked. "Why do you think I was showering here, as if I didn't already shower at home today" Karen groaned " And now I'm freezing my butt off from the icy shower and apparently there is no heating in here either" Jim tried to hide a smile but failed miserably and started laughing while Karen still groaned and moaned about showers and dumpsters and being jinxed. Now Marty arrived "Is Sonny here, I smell dumpster, Dunbar you |
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Post by maggiethecat on May 21, 2007 14:40:56 GMT -5
And karma to you, Chris, for being the first to jump into the pool, and with style and humor! I did tweak the punctuation a bit, and we're good to go. Can't wait to see what comes next! The moment Detective Jim Dunbar entered the squad room that morning he knew something was not right. The room was icy, as though the heating system had suddenly gone on strike during the night, and there was an odd smell in the air. Beside him Hank whined softly, his ears laid back. “Hello?” Jim called out. “Karen? Boss?” Silence. A door banged somewhere in the distance. Suddenly, the air was split by a shrill scream. Quickly, Jim’s hand went to his hip; then, of course, he remembered his gun was at home in the nightstand. “Shit,” he muttered. “What now?” A moment later Karen entered the squad room complaining, "I took a shower and suddenly there was no hot water!" "What's that smell?" Jim asked. "Why do you think I was showering here, as if I didn't already shower at home today?" Karen groaned. "And now I'm freezing my butt off from the icy shower and apparently there is no heating in here either." Jim tried to hide a smile but failed miserably and started laughing while Karen groaned and moaned about showers and dumpsters and being jinxed. Then Marty arrived. "Is Sonny here? I smell dumpster. Dunbar, you . . . " |
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Post by krissie on May 21, 2007 14:47:21 GMT -5
really need to get a better class of--" Marty broke off, mid-sentence, stifled a snort, then said appreciatively, "Karen? You're..."
"Don't you even think about finishing that sentence!" Karen snarled.
"Ooo! Feisty!" said Marty.
Jim felt something nudge his arm. He had a sneaking suspicion that it might have been an elbow. Marty's elbow. Then Marty whispered, loud enough to make sure Karen could hear, "She's wearing a towel."
Behind his dark glasses, Jim's eyebrows crawled northwards. "A towel?"
"Uh, huh. Looks like a refugee from a Miami beach holiday. It's got a picture of a palm tree and
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Post by mlm828 on May 21, 2007 15:57:06 GMT -5
The moment Detective Jim Dunbar entered the squad room that morning he knew something was not right. The room was icy, as though the heating system had suddenly gone on strike during the night, and there was an odd smell in the air. Beside him Hank whined softly, his ears laid back.
“Hello?” Jim called out. “Karen? Boss?”
Silence. A door banged somewhere in the distance.
Suddenly, the air was split by a shrill scream.
Quickly, Jim’s hand went to his hip; then, of course, he remembered his gun was at home in the nightstand. “Shit,” he muttered. “What now?”
A moment later Karen entered the squad room complaining, "I took a shower and suddenly there was no hot water!"
"What's that smell?" Jim asked.
"Why do you think I was showering here, as if I didn't already shower at home today?" Karen groaned. "And now I'm freezing my butt off from the icy shower and apparently there is no heating in here either."
Jim tried to hide a smile but failed miserably and started laughing while Karen groaned and moaned about showers and dumpsters and being jinxed.
Then Marty arrived. "Is Sonny here? I smell dumpster. Dunbar, you really need to get a better class of--" Marty broke off, mid-sentence, stifled a snort, then said appreciatively, "Karen? You're..."
"Don't you even think about finishing that sentence!" Karen snarled.
"Ooo! Feisty!" said Marty.
Jim felt something nudge his arm. He had a sneaking suspicion that it might have been an elbow. Marty's elbow. Then Marty whispered, loud enough to make sure Karen could hear, "She's wearing a towel."
Behind his dark glasses, Jim's eyebrows crawled northwards. "A towel?"
"Uh, huh. Looks like a refugee from a Miami beach holiday. It's got a picture of a palm tree and a beach umbrella. Must've been some vacation, huh, Dunbar?"
"Zip it," Karen snapped as she headed back to the shower room to get dressed.
As he listened to Karen's footsteps disappearing down the hall, Jim noticed Hank getting restive. He could feel it through the harness. "What's the matter, boy?" he asked. Hank whined again in response.
"It's gotta be that smell," Marty said. "It's getting worse. What is it?"
"I have no idea," Jim replied, shaking his head. "Where d'you think it's coming from?"
"I dunno. Let's – "
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Post by hoosier on May 23, 2007 18:34:03 GMT -5
The moment Detective Jim Dunbar entered the squad room that morning he knew something was not right. The room was icy, as though the heating system had suddenly gone on strike during the night, and there was an odd smell in the air. Beside him Hank whined softly, his ears laid back.
“Hello?” Jim called out. “Karen? Boss?”
Silence. A door banged somewhere in the distance.
Suddenly, the air was split by a shrill scream.
Quickly, Jim’s hand went to his hip; then, of course, he remembered his gun was at home in the nightstand. “Shit,” he muttered. “What now?”
A moment later Karen entered the squad room complaining, "I took a shower and suddenly there was no hot water!"
"What's that smell?" Jim asked.
"Why do you think I was showering here, as if I didn't already shower at home today?" Karen groaned. "And now I'm freezing my butt off from the icy shower and apparently there is no heating in here either."
Jim tried to hide a smile but failed miserably and started laughing while Karen groaned and moaned about showers and dumpsters and being jinxed.
Then Marty arrived. "Is Sonny here? I smell dumpster. Dunbar, you really need to get a better class of--" Marty broke off, mid-sentence, stifled a snort, then said appreciatively, "Karen? You're..."
"Don't you even think about finishing that sentence!" Karen snarled.
"Ooo! Feisty!" said Marty.
Jim felt something nudge his arm. He had a sneaking suspicion that it might have been an elbow. Marty's elbow. Then Marty whispered, loud enough to make sure Karen could hear, "She's wearing a towel."
Behind his dark glasses, Jim's eyebrows crawled northwards. "A towel?"
"Uh, huh. Looks like a refugee from a Miami beach holiday. It's got a picture of a palm tree and a beach umbrella. Must've been some vacation, huh, Dunbar?"
"Zip it," Karen snapped as she headed back to the shower room to get dressed.
As he listened to Karen's footsteps disappearing down the hall, Jim noticed Hank getting restive. He could feel it through the harness. "What's the matter, boy?" he asked. Hank whined again in response.
"It's gotta be that smell," Marty said. "It's getting worse. What is it?"
"I have no idea," Jim replied, shaking his head. "Where d'you think it's coming from?"
"I dunno. Let's check it out. "
Jim had Hank follow Marty as the other detective made his way toward the locker room. The smell became worse, if that was possible. He was just thankful that the heat was off because he was finding that it was taking almost all of his self-control not to gag. Even worse, he had smelled something like this before. He swallowed hard, trying to ignore the sweetly rancid odor as he searched his brain for the memory. Hank whined, straining at the harness.
"What's the matter, Dunbar? Dog afraid I'm gonna find his secret stash of Milkbones?" Marty laughed.
Jim shook his head
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Post by maggiethecat on May 24, 2007 10:01:34 GMT -5
Karma, hoosier, for leaping into the pool! ;D And may I also offer karma to those of you -- hint, hint -- who can spin out miles and miles of wonderful limericks and poems but have yet to try a spot of fic?
RULES CHANGE:How about you only have to wait for one person to post before you post again? In other words, no double posting. Thanks! |
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Post by Deleted on May 24, 2007 11:17:08 GMT -5
The moment Detective Jim Dunbar entered the squad room that morning he knew something was not right. The room was icy, as though the heating system had suddenly gone on strike during the night, and there was an odd smell in the air. Beside him Hank whined softly, his ears laid back.
“Hello?” Jim called out. “Karen? Boss?”
Silence. A door banged somewhere in the distance.
Suddenly, the air was split by a shrill scream.
Quickly, Jim’s hand went to his hip; then, of course, he remembered his gun was at home in the nightstand. “Shit,” he muttered. “What now?”
A moment later Karen entered the squad room complaining, "I took a shower and suddenly there was no hot water!"
"What's that smell?" Jim asked.
"Why do you think I was showering here, as if I didn't already shower at home today?" Karen groaned. "And now I'm freezing my butt off from the icy shower and apparently there is no heating in here either."
Jim tried to hide a smile but failed miserably and started laughing while Karen groaned and moaned about showers and dumpsters and being jinxed.
Then Marty arrived. "Is Sonny here? I smell dumpster. Dunbar, you really need to get a better class of--" Marty broke off, mid-sentence, stifled a snort, then said appreciatively, "Karen? You're..."
"Don't you even think about finishing that sentence!" Karen snarled.
"Ooo! Feisty!" said Marty.
Jim felt something nudge his arm. He had a sneaking suspicion that it might have been an elbow. Marty's elbow. Then Marty whispered, loud enough to make sure Karen could hear, "She's wearing a towel."
Behind his dark glasses, Jim's eyebrows crawled northwards. "A towel?"
"Uh, huh. Looks like a refugee from a Miami beach holiday. It's got a picture of a palm tree and a beach umbrella. Must've been some vacation, huh, Dunbar?"
"Zip it," Karen snapped as she headed back to the shower room to get dressed.
As he listened to Karen's footsteps disappearing down the hall, Jim noticed Hank getting restive. He could feel it through the harness. "What's the matter, boy?" he asked. Hank whined again in response.
"It's gotta be that smell," Marty said. "It's getting worse. What is it?"
"I have no idea," Jim replied, shaking his head. "Where d'you think it's coming from?"
"I dunno. Let's check it out. "
Jim had Hank follow Marty as the other detective made his way toward the locker room. The smell became worse, if that was possible. He was just thankful that the heat was off because he was finding that it was taking almost all of his self-control not to gag. Even worse, he had smelled something like this before. He swallowed hard, trying to ignore the sweetly rancid odor as he searched his brain for the memory. Hank whined, straining at the harness.
"What's the matter, Dunbar? Dog afraid I'm gonna find his secret stash of Milkbones?" Marty laughed.
Jim shook his head. "No, Marty, I think he's reacting to that dandruff shampoo of yours," Jim said, mirroring Marty's sarcasm.
Marty stopped short, causing Jim to almost crash into him. "What the?..."
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Post by Dreamfire on May 24, 2007 18:24:26 GMT -5
The moment Detective Jim Dunbar entered the squad room that morning he knew something was not right. The room was icy, as though the heating system had suddenly gone on strike during the night, and there was an odd smell in the air. Beside him Hank whined softly, his ears laid back. “Hello?” Jim called out. “Karen? Boss?” Silence. A door banged somewhere in the distance. Suddenly, the air was split by a shrill scream. Quickly, Jim’s hand went to his hip; then, of course, he remembered his gun was at home in the nightstand. “Shit,” he muttered. “What now?” A moment later Karen entered the squad room complaining, "I took a shower and suddenly there was no hot water!" "What's that smell?" Jim asked. "Why do you think I was showering here, as if I didn't already shower at home today?" Karen groaned. "And now I'm freezing my butt off from the icy shower and apparently there is no heating in here either." Jim tried to hide a smile but failed miserably and started laughing while Karen groaned and moaned about showers and dumpsters and being jinxed. Then Marty arrived. "Is Sonny here? I smell dumpster. Dunbar, you really need to get a better class of--" Marty broke off, mid-sentence, stifled a snort, then said appreciatively, "Karen? You're..." "Don't you even think about finishing that sentence!" Karen snarled. "Ooo! Feisty!" said Marty. Jim felt something nudge his arm. He had a sneaking suspicion that it might have been an elbow. Marty's elbow. Then Marty whispered, loud enough to make sure Karen could hear, "She's wearing a towel." Behind his dark glasses, Jim's eyebrows crawled northwards. "A towel?" "Uh, huh. Looks like a refugee from a Miami beach holiday. It's got a picture of a palm tree and a beach umbrella. Must've been some vacation, huh, Dunbar?" "Zip it," Karen snapped as she headed back to the shower room to get dressed. As he listened to Karen's footsteps disappearing down the hall, Jim noticed Hank getting restive. He could feel it through the harness. "What's the matter, boy?" he asked. Hank whined again in response. "It's gotta be that smell," Marty said. "It's getting worse. What is it?" "I have no idea," Jim replied, shaking his head. "Where d'you think it's coming from?" "I dunno. Let's check it out. " Jim had Hank follow Marty as the other detective made his way toward the locker room. The smell became worse, if that was possible. He was just thankful that the heat was off because he was finding that it was taking almost all of his self-control not to gag. Even worse, he had smelled something like this before. He swallowed hard, trying to ignore the sweetly rancid odor as he searched his brain for the memory. Hank whined, straining at the harness. "What's the matter, Dunbar? Dog afraid I'm gonna find his secret stash of Milkbones?" Marty laughed. Jim shook his head. "No, Marty, I think he's reacting to that dandruff shampoo of yours," Jim said, mirroring Marty's sarcasm. Marty stopped short, causing Jim to almost crash into him. "What the?..." “What?...” Jim nudged. “Marty!” Marty opened his mouth but no words emerged, just a random bunch of syllables. Karen padded up on quiet bare feet, her freshly washed hair brushed his shoulder. “Bodies, no - mannequins," she corrected "dozens of them, Jim, in pieces.” “And blood, tons of it, and…” Marty relapsed again. “Grey muck, like…” It was Karen’s turn to be lost for words. “Mannequins with brains?” ~ “So whoever did this added animal body fluids and parts into the mix.” Fisk finished reading the CSU report. “Any wild ideas why?” “The mannequins look like anyone we know?” They stared |
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Post by maggiethecat on May 24, 2007 18:59:16 GMT -5
Is it me , or is this starting to make absolutely no sense whatsoever?  |
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Post by Duchess of Lashes on May 24, 2007 19:51:53 GMT -5
Um, can't be just you cause I don't get it either!  |
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Post by Dreamfire on May 24, 2007 21:19:37 GMT -5
You want me to toss it? The source of the smell is a pile of manequins someone has chopped up and added blood and bone to and piled somwhere in the precinct. Sounds the like start of a bizarre case to me...
Maybe I got it wrong but I thought the whole point of a round robin was as in theatre sports... to accept what is thrown up and run with it?
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Post by maggiethecat on May 24, 2007 22:23:47 GMT -5
You want me to toss it? The source of the smell is a pile of manequins someone has chopped up and added blood and bone to and piled somwhere in the precinct. Sounds the like start of a bizarre case to me... Maybe . . . but a Blind Justice case? Hmmm. More like The Night Stalker. Maybe I got it wrong but I thought the whole point of a round robin was as in theatre sports ... to accept what is thrown up and run with it? Of course it is, but within reason, and taking into consideration your fellow board members who will try to follow what you have posted. Taking it in a direction that stumps the other participants is a sure way to stop the game! So . . . major karma to anyone who can write us out of chopped-up mannequins covered with blood and brain matter (ugh!). There. I said it. |
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Post by bjobsessed on May 24, 2007 22:33:49 GMT -5
How do you know the other members are stumped until someone tries? Most shows have an episode that's a little off the wall especially around Halloween. We never got to see what they may or may not have done around that time. I may not be participating in this, but I am reading it and would like to see where it goes.
Just as someone is free to write this, so is someone free to take it in a different direction.
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Post by Dreamfire on May 24, 2007 22:37:14 GMT -5
Okay, I'll tone it down. Revised round robin post on its way... |
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