Roleplay By Monologues

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Copperfox said:
In some place like the Twilight Zone, ten men were standing in a circle. Between the men were ten piles of sand, with each sandpile belonging to the man on whose left side it lay.

A voice from on high boomed, "Redistribute!" Upon hearing this, each and every man in the circle simultaneously bent toward the sandpile on his RIGHT--thus, toward sand that belonged to his neighbor--scooped up a double handful of sand, and tossed it onto his own pile. An instant later, each and every man saw to his disappointment that his pile had not grown any larger despite his taking from his neighbor. So, without need of an order now, each man leaned over the pile on his right again, took more sand, and tossed this on his own pile. Their own piles, of course, had been depleted by the same amount.

Now all ten men went berserk, grabbing and flinging and grabbing and flinging, each trying to steal MORE sand than was being stolen from him. Sand circulated around and around the circle, to no purpose.

All at once, then, one man in the circle stood erect...thought for a minute...and walked fifty yards to the beach, where he could get his own sand.

The others cursed him for not caring about the People's Collective.
Click to expand...



James Thurber twitched in his grave and mumbled "Is someone out there writing just like me?" causing a pair of graveyard custodians who had been formerly clipping the grass and arguing about the local sports team to hie out of there like rabbits.

A thirteen-year-old girl who was busy questing along the street heard their hysterical babbling and indignantly replied "That was my line!"
 
you see one has to wonder,
about the face that, nearly everything we've said, someone else has said before - nothing is new.
everything is old.
thus, every thing could be anyone's line...
 
SongsofLife, walking quietly on the beach, lost in her thoughts, saw a man up ahead. He seemed to be building sand castles, fueled by his own imagination. She took note of the man's initiative and prayed, "God bless America, land of the free, home of the brave. Thank you God for our freedoms. Help us to use them wisely. Amen."
 
Copperfox reappeared on this thread just in time to hear the recent remarks. He said "Amen!" to Songs, "Glad to see you!" to TOJ; and to Primsong, "I happen to be a Thurber fan." Then he turned his attention back to making sure Lady Inkling was okay. She still didn't feel up to much talking, but she gave Copperfox a number where he could reach her husband. So Copperfox called the lucky man on his cell phone--the cell phone on whose little display screen he keeps a picture of Janalee.
 
Meanwhile, some of the conspirators for over-extension of "equal opportunity" were discussing what to do about Copperfox, who had dared not to accept blindly everything they said.

"We have to tread carefully; he runs a vegetarian restaurant, and some of our best animal-rights activists are starting to eat there daily."

"That's a sly move on his part, accommodating them when HE isn't even a vegetarian himself. Makes it harder for us to slander him as hateful and intolerant."

"But we can even use his accommodation of them to make him LOOK bad. We'll simply tell him that 'inclusion'--I love that word, it _includes_ whatever we want it to include--requires him to start serving meat in his restaurant. Then if he keeps faith with his customers, we can call it something like dietary discrimination."

"But won't that make our animal-rights activists turn against us and side with him?"

"No worries. They'll suspend their own interests for the sake of the _primary_ agenda: suppressing free enterprise and freedom of conscience."

"I guess you're right: just like the way so many women gave a free pass to that guy who kept harassing and assaulting women, as long as he told them what they wanted to hear politically...."
 
The call went out through all the lands, foreign, near, far and questionable in exisitance - "Quick, we need more animal-rights activists!" Several mini-vans loaded up with volunteers who were all trucked to a single location in the middle of nowhere to wave pre-printed signs, wear free t-shirts with a slogan on them and shout at the lone television camera that had been hired to film them.

"Riots spontaneously erupt over Copperfox's restaurant," the reporter read from his script as confused volunteers obligingly mobbed behind him. "The entire country agrees that it's a travesty and anyone who thinks otherwise is just plain wrong and better get with the program."

"Are we done yet?" one of the volunteers asked. "Where's the free ice-cream we were promised?"

"Where am I?" asked another. "I thought this was the bus to Topeka."
 
Ghost, running The Octopus Garden in Copperfox's absence, drew forth twin Uzis and shot everyone in the annoying crowd dead. He knew it was all right, because the very next post would contradict his action and the victims would be alive again. But for the moment, this gave him the peace and quiet to demand an explanation from the cameraman.

"Who put you up to this?"

"Er, um, some group of guys called Walnut or Almond or something like that. They want Copperfox to be stuck no matter which way he jumps. If he doesn't agree to meat in his restaurant, he'll be called intolerant of diversity; and if he does agree, he'll be hit with 'Meat Is Murder' demonstrations."

"Okay, thanks. Now, I'm going to kill you just for the rest of this post--" and Ghost shot the man in the head; "--but after that you'll be alive again, and I'll want all this mess cleared away."

Ghost got out his cell phone, called up Copperfox to alert him, and then called some bloggers he knew to ask them to investigate this business further. This concluded the post, so all the dead people came back to life.
 
Just then a helicopter landed, headed for Topeka. All who wanted to get away from the violence and mayhem caused by current events boarded the helicopter -- which was able to hold all 47 occupants -- and headed for the land of Oz. Once there, they visited the capitol building and the nearby farmers market, then checked into the Residence Inn on Wanamaker Road for the night.

At dinner, which consisted of wheat, corn, pumpkins from nearby fields, and nuts, they made plans to visit the Wizard of Oz museum in Wamego, about a 90 mile drive from Topeka.

Then Tinkerbell zoomed in, as if for a landing.
 
Hailing the Wizard of Oz fans, Tinkerbell fumed, "I had a guy in Wichita tell me I'm a racist--because I'm blonde!"
 
Considerably south of Oz out in the wild waters of oceanic persuasion Tiger-Lily and the various Indian boys of Seems-Like-Forever-Land wondered where Tinkerbell had gotten off to, the floating pirate ship of thirteen-year-olds having long since vanished with her into the clouds.

"I vote we follow her!" one of them said. "Hoi! Yoi! Yoi! Woo-hoo!" the boys agreed and all set about constructing a log raft. They shortly set out to sea, towed by helpful mermaids, to seek Tinkerbell, their Destiny, or at least a nice tropical resort with coupons for cheap macadamia-nut waffles at the buffet.

It wasn't their fault, really, that they were shortly sucked up in a tremendous water-spout and dropped into Oz along with everyone else.

"What's this?" Tiger-Lily asked, poking at the shoes sticking out from underneath their raft.
 
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"Shiny! and Sparkly!" said tinkerbell in her blondness, "oh my goodness gracious! they're attached!"
they all jumped back in rather a fright, but then tiger-lily leaned forward as if listening. "whats that sound?"
"sounds like its alive!" exclaimed one of the boys. they all lifted up the raft to find a four-foot tall girl with a beautiful ruby dress on.
"excuse me, but you were to land on her" she yelled at them pointing.
 
Meanwhile, in a miserable shack in Kenya, a man named George sat wondering why his wealthy brother in America never helped him get out of poverty. Wouldn't THAT count as "spreading the wealth around"? Yes, it would...but then George realized that helping him would involve the rich brother using HIS OWN wealth. And of course, the rich American brother only wanted to spread OTHER PEOPLE'S wealth around.

Which now he looked like getting his chance to do...thanks to the hypnotic power of a single one-syllable word, endlessly and mindlessly repeated without thought or investigation.
 
"Swing! Swing! Swing! Swing! Swing!" was the single word they chanted. "We love swings and think swinging should become the new national pastime in Kenya, the US and Indonesia. Tire swings, flat-bottomed, swings, tree swings, jet-pack powered swings, swings on the dancing lawn, swings in Cair Paravel, swings in Pair Caravel, Swings on caramel Sundaes, swings with fairy wings."

Ad nauseum they chanted for swings. But the pro-swingsters celebrated in the streets along the non-lake and in the streets of non-Arizona, in the streets of Kenya and Indonesia and Sri Lanka. And all throughout the world, people became focused on a common goal -- sharing the joys of swinging through the air, pumping ones' legs to go higher and higher, but never, no never jumping out of the swing at the pinnacle of the arc. No, not Joan of Arc.

And Tinkerbell led the way, just as a little Child shall lead them.
 
Copperfox wanted to get back to The Octopus Garden to find out more about the staged riot; but he wasn't going to leave the still-weakened Lady Inkling unwatched until her husband came to get her.

He did, however, decide she looked strong enough now to dismount from the horse he was leading. As he steadied her coming down, her face momentarily turned away from him, she suddenly said in a loud murmur, "Oh, my hero, my wonderful and adorable hero beyond all compare!" Copperfox felt acute embarrassment for just an instant--until the blue-kirtled lady's next action revealed that she was pulling his chain in fun.

For her next action, still NOT looking at the old sailor, was to snuggle up TO THE HORSE. "Darling, precious quadruped, vastly superior to mere humans, especially to MALE humans, I owe everything to YOU! Come on, let's gallop off on a lonely quest that no one else understands! Who cares if I'm 15 years older than the average for narcissistic horse-questing?"

After that much, Inkling herself could not keep from laughing out loud. Swinging around to face Copperfox, she said simply, "Yes, I know who really deserves my thanks." And once more they shook hands at extreme arm's reach, but in this there was as much feeling on both sides as there could properly be.

After Inkling's husband had swung by for her with a coach-and-four, Copperfox felt cheered up enough by his friend's insightful satirical joke, that he decided: "No matter what's going on with my restaurant, I'm GOING to help Emmett arrange entertainment for the unveiling of his new dancefloor."
 
The munchkins of Oz all began to dance around and sing something about ding-dongs, causing the various inauthentic-Indian boys and Tiger-Lily to conclude they had reached the land of Hostess Snacks and the strange ruby-clad girl they had inadvertently squashed with their raft was Little Debbie.

They responded as anyone would logically conclude they should: they bound Little Debbie to the mast of their raft and began to dance in a circle around it going "WOO-woo-woo-woo WOO-woo-woo-woo" in what they imagined was a very Indian manner, the television reception for old westerns being rather fuzzy in Seems-Like-Foreverland.

"Do we get twinkies for saving you from her?" one of them asked a munchkin, "and... Hey! Isn't that Tinkerbell? And are those swings?"
 
Meanwhile, Emmett and Copperfox discussed plans for entertainment at the opening of the dancefloor.

Also meanwhile, a 13-month-old female housecat was wishing that SHE could go off on horseback for a self-flattering solo quest that no one else could understand, especially not any dogs.
 
*chuckles* I must say that my husband would be more likely to arrive in a helicopter than a coach and four :D. Still, I do love the Cinderella imagery.
 
The brother of the impoverished and abandoned George walked up to the nine men who were still furiously circulating sand around and around, and began telling them how lucky they were to have him in charge of getting sand equally distributed. Just then, the tenth man, who had been finding new sand independently, came running up to them.

"Sir," he exclaimed to the Change Party leader, "since you're in charge, you need to do something fast! A hundred Viking longships just landed on the beach, and the warriors are coming this way right now, chanting what sure sounds like Danish for 'Kill! Kill!' "

The politician's first reaction was to tell the nine redistributors, "Ignore that bitter man! The ONLY thing that matters is fair distribution of the sand." His next reaction was to say to the man who gave warning, "You're a bigot! You just hate those Vikings because they're DIFFERENT from you!" His third reaction was to start walking calmly inland, pretending to be unconcerned about the Vikings...until he was out of the immediate view of the men he had been speaking to, at which point he ran like a rabbit.

The man who had given warning ran also, since he had no weapons. He therefore survived. The other nine men, busily reminding each other that nothing mattered except equal distribution of sand, were soon lying dead on their sandpiles.
 
A significant amount of time passed, after which an ostrich wandered past, stuck its head in the sand and came up wearing a Viking helmet, which (as the good Doctor once noted) was certainly a genuine Viking helmet and not a 'space helmet for a cow.'

"Hoonorrrk?" it honked (with its vocal cords, not its horns).

--

Meanwhile in Oz the Indians, Tiger-Lily and Tinkerbell began to argue over whether or not they ought to set fire to the raft that Little Debbie was tied to. Some boys (who loved the idea of setting anything at all on fire) were for, Tiger-Lily and the others were against and Tinkerbell was busy trying to quietly slip in a provision for Fairy Rights on their ballots while they weren't looking.
 
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