Unutterably Silly Memorable FIRST SENTENCES - Only Yours, please

[alia]

Spring wouldn't be so bad if trees were less promiscuous. I would hate trees if I didn't have strict instructions from Al Gore.

[Steven Lyle Jordan]

"Take it for a spin—" was just coming out of his mouth, in that crazy-relaxed southern drawl that was so popular around these parts, but by then I was already in gear and moving, the smoke from the tires turning his words into coughing spasms, startling passers-by, and (fortunately for me and them) prompting everyone out of the path of what no one had yet realized was a freshly-stolen Mustang convertible, bouncing off the curb and into the busy streets of Macon.

[GeoffC]

It was now, or never....

[Taylor514ce]

The snowfall was really no surprise to anyone, though unpredicted, but its scent of burning balsa, and the air's subtle taste of ash and the half-remembered scorch of campfire marshmellows were the first hints, often remarked during the aftermath, that all was not right, mere hazy harbingers of the panic that began when the first soft flakes raised bitter blisters on the upturned faces of the world's last Children.

[Madam Broshkina]

John was worried when he learned that his regular doctor could not perform his scheduled brain surgery, but when he learned that the doctors daughter who has no previous experience but has the same last name would be performing the operation his fears were allayed.

[Taylor514ce]

The flare of the struck match shown through her cupped hand, making her fingers glow (alabaster, he thought... rose quartz), revealing in their delicate, venular tracery what he thought might be the path of his life, a course to plot, a way forward, a next step, if only he could decipher its intricate alphabet before it faded away with the dying match, or became transmuted into her first, soft, smoky exhalation.

[Steven Lyle Jordan]

The dream always ended the same way, with the knowledge of failure, followed by the deaths... his wife... his child... his mistress, and her child, which should have been his, and in his dreams, was his... all falling beside him, like trees felled with a single swipe of an axe, to lay like cordwood at his feet... and always, the curses, the derision, the fingers pointing at him, before they, too, began to fall lifelessly around him... and, finally, the terrorist, the one his bullet had missed, seen as if his own eyes were keener than his sniper's scope, leering directly at him, eyes burning like firepits as he held his thumb down on the button embedded in the black box; he had not hesitated, had not wavered, and had not doubted, but as always, he had missed... helpless to save them all, and helpless to save himself.

[desertgrandma]

Originally Posted by Steve Jordan

The dream always ended the same way, with the knowledge of failure, followed by the deaths... his wife... his child... his mistress, and her child, which should have been his, and in his dreams, was his... all falling beside him, like trees felled with a single swipe of an axe, to lay like cordwood at his feet... and always, the curses, the derision, the fingers pointing at him, before they, too, began to fall lifelessly around him... and, finally, the terrorist, the one his bullet had missed, seen as if his own eyes were keener than his sniper's scope, leering directly at him, eyes burning like firepits as he held his thumb down on the button embedded in the black box; he had not hesitated, had not wavered, and had not doubted, but as always, he had missed... helpless to save them all, and helpless to save himself.

I am so depressed..............

[Steven Lyle Jordan]

Originally Posted by desertgrandma

I am so depressed..............

Go to sleep. It will be all right in the morning.

[Dr. Drib]

It was one of those beautiful days when the birds sing their happy songs and the air is fresh and lovely, almost with a vibratory sense to the air; so much so, that it makes you hum and sing along with the birds as they fly hither and yon, their lovely songs an aphrodisiac to your senses, which is really a surprise considering it’s January 20th and President Bush is leaving office, and you are no longer constipated.



Don

[GeoffC]

Originally Posted by Steve Jordan

Go to sleep. It will be all right in the morning.

but which morning?

[Dr. Drib]

I felt an incredible urge to shove Poppin Fresh, the fat little Dough Boy, into the microwave, there to see his pudgy doughy eyes puff up in astonishment and to hear his futile little screams, and to see his pasty hands pounding with soft, but uselessly agitated insistence upon the Microwave’s glass door, and to know finally and irrevocably that he would be dead once and for all, resting at the bottom of mama’s scrumptious chocolate pie, even now as she languidly stirred the chocolate simmering atop the oven.


Don

[Taylor514ce]

The Anthropomorphites gathered in the abandoned boathouse, Poppin Fresh warily eyeballing Mr. Stay Puft, the Arby's Oven Mitt commiserating with the oddly misfingered "Helping Hand", the Scrubbing Bubbles performing ritual cleaning of Bibendum, Mr. Peanut and the California Raisins getting' the party started, while the Kool Aid Man, already more than half sloshed, tried to chat-up the 7-up Cool Spot... when finally Fruit Pie the Magician called the meeting to order with the time-honored incantation, "Let us never forget the fate of Charlie the Tuna, in whose memory we meet, and in whose tragic death and subsequent consumption we raise the banner: Death to Humans!"

[Steven Lyle Jordan]

Driving down the suburban lane, he was immediately struck by the darkness of it: The beautiful trees he had grown up around had grown up themselves, stretching high into the sky and completely across the road, to touch each other, and cut off the sunlight from the street... it used to be so bright here, so cheerful, even on the days he remembered sourly, like the day he and Eric Burgan's little brother had run into each other on bicycles; now, the old neighborhood was dark, almost ominous, the optimistic suburbs gone apprehensive, as if dreading what the future would bring; the children were all hiding inside, presumably swinging their Wiis and Guitar Hero axes wildly; the adults were in their basements, gloomily watching DVDs of TV shows so old that they had actually forgotten almost half of the punchlines; and here he came, a briefcase of papers filling the passenger seat, and misgivings in his heart about having to tell Ms. Dana Cready that her cats would have to go, the city just wouldn't allow 30 cats in a single household, it's an ordinance, I'm so sorry... when suddenly, he drove through a spot where the trees had not quire reached across the street, and the sunlight poured through a rift in the boughs and brightened the street, and suddenly, it was 1969 again, and everything seemed possible... and in that moment, he knew what he really needed to do for Ms. Cready, and everyone else in his old neighborhood... something that would put color into women's cheeks, and swell men's chests... something that would bring the children back outside on their bicycles, laughing and running into each other in careless, carefree moments... he could save this suburb with a single act of daring, and if he was lucky, the authorities wouldn't figure out what he'd done before he was safe in Jamaica, sipping white rum and laughing louder than anyone else at the bar.

[Wetdogeared]

Originally Posted by Steve Jordan

he could save this suburb with a single act of daring

I'm envisioning a chainsaw here, anyone else?