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Continued Story Project #001

INTRODUCTION: This was the first attempt at a public continuing story project. It was undertaken in the West Bottoms of Kansas City, MO on the first Friday in June. Five fantastic people took time to stop and sit at a 1965 Smith Corona portable typewriter and share their creativity. For their participation we would like to thank the following individuals: Simone Cottrell, Colle, Jack Kankiewicz 1st, Brie Monetti, Cristy Crouse. (In order of appearance.) A paragraph or two at the end was also provided by Jonus Brown of AWD. (When you see this symbol,******, it signifies a change in authors.)

"Fry the egg."

I held the freshly pooped white oval in my fist.

"Fry it, you little shit!"

I didn't want to, but what else does a twelve year old do the day after school lets out and he is surrounded by other booger eaters on a heat wave Friday?



Karma. The bird shat upon me in that glorious moment, fist held high, ready to show my dominance over the avians. Shat for shat, tit for tat. Splat.


I took out my trusty M80, which had gotten me through some very tough times, and aimed it dead center at the gaping mouth of the bird. The bird, watching me go through that motion, took out his own M80 and did the exact same thing! Curse Mockingbirds!


(and now from the perspective of the bird)

It was a day a film writer begs to witness for the sake of content. I had finally flown all the way North in order to see my sweet Louise. She had waited all summer for my arrival. I had only dreamt of this moment. It was what got me through the hellish days in the ole Kentucky sun. I had even practiced my flapping, what I would chirp when our beaks finally touched.

The time had come. I saw my sweet Louise, and what was more, the eggs she had been keeping warm for us... 'What's this? Who is touching the eggs of my sweet, sweet Louise?' The atrocity! The outrage! I must avenge the sanctity of our little ones. What's a mockingbird to do? I must make Edgar proud! After all, I've been to war. I know how to protect her honor.

Next thing I know, I'm looking through the barrel of a gun! This is my reckoning day, this is the day of the mockin jay.


(and now from the perspective of the environmentalist)

On that warm summer day, many moons ago, I felt... happy.

The radiant sun was on my face and the pretty mockingbirds were flying between trees. All of a sudden I witnessed one of the most shocking things; a really crazed human ran out from the woods with an M80! Before I could react, the human had their gun's barrel pointed right at one of those birds.


But, she noticed to her amazement, the mockingbird also pulled out a gun in self defense and pointed it at the crazed human. There was a stand off! The tension was tangible. She was scared for a moment, but only for a moment. After that she sprung into action, racing to stand in between the bird and the crazy looking guy with the gun.

What could possibly come out of this situation, and what was she doing? She had moved before she could really even think about it. Now, she stood between two guns pointed at her. She didn't want the bird to be shot, but she also did not want to see the bird have to shoot the human either. All the while she was thinking, that this predicament was almost all too ludicrous to comprehend.

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