The Amazing Race   American Idol   America's Next Top Model   The Apprentice   The Bachelor
Big Brother   The Biggest Loser   Dancing with the Stars   Survivor                Reality TV World
   
Reality TV World Message Board Forums
PLEASE NOTE: The Reality TV World Message Boards are filled with desperate attention-seekers pretending to be one big happy PG/PG13-rated family. Don't be fooled. Trying to get everyone to agree with you is like herding cats, but intolerance for other viewpoints is NOT welcome and respect for other posters IS required at all times. Jump in and play, and you'll soon find out how easy it is to fit in, but save your drama for your mama. All members are encouraged to read the complete guidelines. As entertainment critic Roger Ebert once said, "If you disagree with something I write, tell me so, argue with me, correct me--but don't tell me to shut up. That's not the American way."
"WSC3 (PN) PTB Saga Pt 3 (Superman's Dead)"
Email this topic to a friend
Printer-friendly version of this topic
Bookmark this topic (Registered users only)
 
Previous Topic | Next Topic 
Conferences Story Competitions Forum (Protected)
Original message

echogirl 2120 desperate attention whore postings
DAW Level: "Roller Coaster Inaugurator"

01-25-04, 05:01 PM (EST)
Click to EMail echogirl Click to send private message to echogirl Click to view user profile Click to check IP address of the poster
"WSC3 (PN) PTB Saga Pt 3 (Superman's Dead)"
LAST EDITED ON 01-25-04 AT 07:59 PM (EST)

I don't think this story will ever end! I think I'm up to 14 peeps now which means I have 37 more to go. I was really hoping to make it to Fresno this episode but so far we've only made it to Barstow. Which means Nailbone has to wait a bit longer! BTW I tried to format this a bit so it would be an easier read.

Superman’s Dead

Star speeds off as I get comfortable in the back seat. Not that kind of comfortable, just comfortable as in relaxed. At least I was comfortable, but Dave seemed a bit uneasy. Slice and Star engage in a conversation up front, and finally I have an opportunity to quiz the Mystery Man. When he was driving it seemed Dave could not go ten seconds without gazing at me in the rearview mirror. He was quiet, but seemed so confident and in control behind the wheel. He obviously had eyes for me but I didn't know if it was purely lust or something much deeper. In the backseat Dave seemed so vulnerable, as if stripping away his steering wheel was somehow stripping away his manhood. This vulnerability excited me; the man had depth and being the inquisitive girl I am, I fully intended to explore these depths.

I ask in a sweetly subtle voice, "So Dave how did you meet Vinnie. and why did he ask you to drive me to LA."

Dave clears his throat and gazes at me with those piercing green eyes. "I'm a writer," Dave says bluntly. "I had recently completed my first novel, 'Cerebral Man Blues', and was looking for a publisher. My novel had been rejected by every major publisher in the country and I lacked the resources to publish it myself."

"You're a writer," I excitedly ask. "Wow that's awesome," I say. "I think writers are incredibly sexy." Oops, I didn't mean to say that! Okay I do think writers are sexy but I didn't want Dave to know, at least not yet. He smiles and his gaze becomes more intense. I carry on. "So when did you decide to become a writer. What inspired you."

"Penthouse Letters," Dave explains. "I was 13 years old and my father used to keep these magazines hidden in a storage shed in our backyard. One day after mowing the yard I just started looking around. My mother always thought my father used this shed for storage and building things, but I suspected something else. When my mother would leave for awhile my father always went out to the shed. And he always closed the door behind him. From the house you could always hear if he was working. A power saw. A drill. But when my mother was gone it was strangely silent. At least I thought. One Saturday afternoon my father went out to the shed, shut the door behind him, and then I followed him. I sat next to the shed and waited. Moments later I could hear his heavy breathing. This went on for a couple of minutes and I thought he might be having a heart attack. Suddenly it stopped. A few minutes later it started again. Then it stopped. A few minutes later I heard the shuffling of boxes. I sensed he was about to come out so I ran to the house. Seconds later he appears, smiling, and I had never seen my father smile before. Something in that shed made him happy and I was determined to find it. And I did."

Okay this isn't exactly the type of writer I was talking about, I say to myself. I mean this isn't exactly Steinbeck or Shakespeare or even Hunter Thompson.

"So you write smut," I ask sarcastically. Dave isn't amused.

"Erotica," Dave replies. "May I continue," he asks. "Please do," I respond.

"The following Monday after my father left for work I returned to the shed. I found a stepladder and pulled every box from the top shelf. The first couple of boxes were full of old family records, cancelled checks, medical bills, IRS forms. The boxes in the back, something I had never seen before. Magazine after magazine full of beautiful women."

I roll my eyes in disgust. This is so typical, so juvenile, so thirteen. I sure hope he has matured.

Dave, unperturbed by my silent thoughts, continues. "I found beauty in their bodies, but something else soon captured my attention."

Hopefully your mother I think to myself.

"The words. Powerful, evocative, penetrating. I became immersed in the words," he said.

Okay I must interrupt. "Dave, didn't you have any books in your house? I mean as a child didn't you read Dr. Seuss or Mark Twain, or anything?" "I mean you did go to school, certainly you at least had access to a library," I reason, unimpressed by his literary discovery.

Dave looks at me with a puzzled, saddened stare and continues. "My father was a factory worker and before that he served in the army. He was a stern, stoic man. A man's man. He didn't believe in books. He didn't trust them. He thought books were corruptive, sinister. We didn't even have a Bible in our house. My father dropped out of school at 14 and never looked back. A real man earned his money through muscle and hard work he said. He didn't trust what the school's taught perhaps because he didn't understand himself. More likely he was afraid his own son might learn something and do better than his old man. My dear mother told me years later that my father was illiterate. He could barely sign his own name."

"Wow that's so sad," I empathize. "It must have been very difficult for you growing up."

"It was," Dave continues. "But I found solace in that shed. My father would never allow me to bring books in our home, so the shed became my oasis. My brethren of life. Every opportunity I was there. As I said, the pictures were never my inspiration, but the words moved me. And one day it happened. I began breathing heavily just like my father. My body began to tingle, then tremor in excitement. I was frightened at first, but I felt oddly inspired, as if a part of me had come to life for the very first time."

"An erection," I laugh.

"Yes but it was more than an erection," Dave adds. "It was spiritual. A calling. I had never felt that way before."

I'm wondering if he feels that way right now, I think to myself. "Go on," I say, strangely fascinated by this conversation.

"The next day I buy a pen and writing pad and return to the shed. I read some more and the sensation returns. Then I begin to write. The sensations become more intense. Soon my emotions begin to explode upon the paper. I knew that day I was destined to become a writer," Dave reflects.

"So you're a 13 year old kid writing smut," I ask.

"Erotica," Dave corrects me. "Every day I would go into the shed and write. A few weeks later I had finished a dozen stories. I had no idea what I should do with them until I found an address on the inside cover of the magazine. I signed my stories S.D., placed them in an envelope, and mailed them off. I had no idea what would become of them as I couldn't even leave a return address. Months later after my father brought home new magazines, I opened one up. There it was. My story! One week shy of my 14th birthday and I had been published in Penthouse magazine," Dave proudly exclaims.

I couldn't help but feel sorry for Dave. At 13 most boys are riding bicycles, playing baseball, or playing video games. Dave's innocence was lost forever.

"So what happened next," I ask.

"Over the next year I continued to write and had five more stories were published. Then one day when I was 15 my father found me out in his shed. Found me with his magazines. Found me with my pen and paper. I had discovered his little secret. First he picked up my writing pad. Even though he couldn't understand the words I had written, he was overcome with anger. He struck me in the face with the pad and then angrily hurled it to the ground saying nothing. 'Dad' I tried to mutter. 'Don't say nothing boy', he said as he unfastened his belt. He whipped me with his belt and then pummeled me with his fists. My mother heard the commotion and ran out to the shed screaming for him to stop. He didn't and the beating continued. I knew I had spent my last day in his shed, and I knew I had spent my last day in his home. Despite the beating I did not shed a tear. My father asked my mother to pack me a suitcase; he said it was time for his son to become a man. My mother returned weeping; suitcase in hand. My father pulled out his wallet and handed me two twenty dollar bills. I took the $40, kissed my mother, and said my goodbyes."

By now I was in tears. How could a father be so cruel? How could he turn his own 15 year old son out on the streets? I didn't know what to say, but I so deeply felt his pain. I reached over to Dave and gave him a hug, "I'm so sorry," I say. I could feel the warmth in his body and I now could understand his earlier distance. Dave sees I am crying.

"It's okay," Dave assures me. "I never liked my father, but he was right about one thing. It was time for me to become a man."

The car became hushed with silence as Slice and Star had been eavesdropping in our conversation. I told Star to keep his eyes on the road. My attention returned to Dave.

"So how did you live, you were so young."

Dave continues, "First I went to Chicago. When I got there I spent half of my money on books, and pen and paper. I survived by panhandling, dumpster diving, sleeping in subways or abandoned buildings. It was Vincent Romano who took me in. He gave me a place to stay, offered me a job as a busboy at one of his restaurants; he basically treated me like one of his sons. I wasn't Italian so I could never be a part of his crew, but Vinnie liked me and always gave me odd jobs. And he always encouraged me. He encouraged me to write, to follow my dreams. To most outsiders he is a ruthless, but those who get to know him soon realize he's an extremely compassionate man."

"I guess so," I add, pulling back the hair from my face. "I thought the man was going to kill me at first. He was just so creepy. I just wanted him to sing my song and then he asks me to dance and then he gets naked. Do you know where he got shot," I ask Dave.

"Yes I know, I was the one that found him," Dave answers.

"You were there," I nervously ask. "Did you, did you, do you..." I begin to stammer. "Do you still have your.."

"Balls," Dave answers.

"Yes, I think," I stammer.

"Yes, I do," Dave answers.

"Well that's good I guess," I mutter.

"Yes, very good," Dave smirks. "You see Vinnie always had a thing for the ladies. Most of the guys did, but especially Vinnie. And the one thing you don't do is sleep with another crew's girl, especially their wives. But Vinnie always had this thing for Marie, Sammy Spicolli's wife. He was madly in love with her. She had these legs that went on forever. She was blonde, tall, beautiful; just like you. For months they have this affair. Everyone warned Vinnie but he couldn't help it. It was more than sex for Vinnie. I mean I had never seen him so happy. But he couldn't keep it a secret. One day one of Spicolli's crew saw Vinnie and Marie together at a restaurant kissing. He was as good as dead. Now Vinnie was a made man so they had to get permission to whack him, but under these circumstances it's always granted. Vinnie new his days were numbered, and he didn't want his sons getting whacked too, so he sent them away and waited. Every day he would tell me exactly where he would be so I could check up on him. He requested that he not be shot in the face so they could have an open casket at his funeral. Spicolli wasn't completely heartless so he agreed. Well one evening Vinnie was at Sal's Bar and Spicolli's crew arrived. Vinnie knew why they were there and he didn't try to fight and he didn't try to run. He politely asked if he could finish his drink and his cigarette first and then he got up and left with Spicolli's crew. I was supposed to meet Vinnie at Sal's and was pulling into the parking lot when I saw Vinnie get into their car. I didn't know if there were more cars, but I decided to follow them anyway. I wasn't a part of Vinnie's crew, in fact I didn't even own a gun, but Vinnie was like a father to me so I had to follow. They drive a few miles, pull over at an abandoned warehouse, and then go inside. I knew I couldn't save Vinnie. I knew if I walked inside I would be whacked too, but I just couldn't leave him. So I waited outside. A few minutes later I heard three gunshots, and then I see Spicolli's crew walk outside, get in their car, and drive away. I run inside expecting to find Vinnie dead, but he was very much alive. Three shots to the groin and they had left him to bleed to death. I grab Vinnie, carry him to my car, and rush him to the hospital. They didn't think he would make it, but Vinnie is as tough as they come. He spent months in the hospital, had over a dozen surgeries, and made a miraculous recovery. He was the old Vinnie, well at least close. When Spicolli found out he was livid at first, and then he began to begrudgingly admire the man. Instead of whacking Vinnie again, or whacking one of Vinnie's sons, Spicolli decided to barter. If Vinnie and his sons agreed to leave Chicago there would be no more killings. If Vinnie and his sons decided to stay there would be a Mob War and all three would likely die. The old Vinnie would have fought to the end, but the new Vinnie was a changed man. He valued life, or at least the lives of those close to him. Vinnie always considered himself an opportunist, so he decided to accept the deal. He and his sons would leave his beloved Chicago and start anew. That's how they ended up in Albuquerque."

"That's quite a story Dave," I say. "So did you follow them," I ask.

"No," he answers. "As much as I loved Vinnie, I knew I could never live that kind of life. Be one of them. I had to say goodbye. So I took a job as a bartender and began devoting more time to my writing."

"Erotica," I tease.

"I still write erotica," Dave confesses. "But I continued to evolve as a man and a writer. No subject was taboo. Short stories, mostly fiction, and I started writing my first novel, 'Cerebral Man Blues'. I began submitting stories to all the leading literary magazines, and each day I would open my mailbox to find a rejection letter. Undeterred I continued to write. Finally I was published in 'Contemporary Woman' magazine."

"No way, I used to read that magazine and I don't ever remember seeing a male author," I skeptically reply.

"Pseudonym," Dave answers. "I used the name Catherine Davison. 'Contemporary Woman' published several of my pieces, all romantic short stories."

"Catherine Davison...I remember her," I enthusiastically reply. "She wrote some fabulous stories, I mean he, I mean you wrote some fabulous stories. My favorite was 'Amber Kiss'...oh my God I can't believe that was you. So tell me Dave how did you get so in touch with your feminine side. That story was written from a woman's perspective and you...well, you were writing smut."

"Erotica," Dave corrects me. "Writing eclipses all boundaries. You become immersed in your characters, you become immersed in their stories, and they become you; no longer are you imprisoned by reality, it's limitations, it's boundaries. Writing for me is more than a creative process, it's more than putting words on a piece of paper; to me writing represents freedom. That's how I felt as a child writing in my father's shed, that's how I felt ten years ago when I was first published in 'Contemporary Woman', and that's how I feel today. I find inspiration in the world that surrounds me, but I can only escape it's boundaries when I write."

Wow this man is deep I think to myself. Deep and incredibly sexy. But there was one thing I was really curious about.

"Do you still get excited when you write," I ask. "I mean do you still get an...."

"Erection," Dave laughs as the car suddenly swerves.

"Star," Slice screams.

Star swerves to miss a man lying in the middle of this desolate highway, and the cars veers off the road into the desert terrain, digging itself into the sand.

"Is everyone okay," I shout.

"Crap," mutters Star.

"We're okay," assures Slice.

"Some guy was lying in the middle of the road," Star explains. "I couldn't help it."

"It's okay Star, it's okay," I say in an attempt to calm Star.

"I think he's dead," Star reasons. "I can't..."

"Dave, somebody check on the guy," I ask.

Dave and Star get out and run to the highway to check on the guy. Face down on the pavement lie a man in a blue cape. Dave kicks his feet, but the man lies motionless. Star bends down to get a closer look.

"It's Superman," announces Star. "Superman's dead."

By now Slice and I arrive at the scene.

“Do something...please," demands a frantic Slice.

Dave kicks his feet again.

"He's dead alright," agrees Dave.

"Superman's dead. I killed Superman," Star says fighting back tears.

Dave kicks his feet again.

The hysterical Star carries on, "I can't believe I killed Superman. I have all his comics. Superman is my second favorite Super Hero..."

Dave kicks his feet again

"...next to Spider Man," says Star.

"Spiderman," an incoherent voice mumbles. "Spiderman." The dead man in the blue cape begins to move. "Spiderman." The disheveled man in the blue cape rolls over. "Spiderman...."

Frightened, Slice and I step backwards.

"Spiderman is a wuss. Spiderman is a freaking wimp. Spiderman is...screw Spiderman. Somebody get me a cigarette. And a beer," the disconcerted Superman demands as he stumbles to his feet.

"Are you Superman," asks a worried Star.

"Get me a beer kid. And a cigarette," the cranky Super Hero demands. "What a freaking night. Where the f*** am I? And who are you people. Ahh screw it just get me a beer. And a cigarette."

Slice and I can smell Superman's breath twenty feet away.

"Will somebody get me a beer. And a cigarette. Where is my bag. Aw screw you," Superman says as he stumbles on, searching for his lost bag.

"Wow how the mighty have fallen," I whisper to Slice.

"This guy is creepy, he can't be the real Superman," reasons Slice.

"Where is Joker," demands Superman. "Where is Joker. Freaking **** I oughta kill him."

"He's not only creepy, he's homophobic," whispers Slice.

"Yes a real charmer," I whisper back.

"Damnit somebody get me a cigarette. Somebody get me a beer. You freaking morons. I’m Superman. I can fly!"

Dave walks over to Superman and attempts to calm him down.

"Joker, is that you," a disoriented Superman looks at Dave through his bloodshot eyes. "It is you. Freaking ba****d."

"It's alright buddy," Dave says trying to calm the man down. "It looks like you had a rough night,"

Dave reasons as he gently puts his hand on Superman's shoulder.

"Don't touch me Joker," an angered Superman warns.

"It's okay, calm down, we will get you some help," offers Dave.

"Help, help," screams Superman. "I don't need no stinking help. I need a beer. And a cigarette. Joker do you hear me? You freaking idiot. I'll get it myself."

Superman stumbles along the shoulder looking for his bag.

"Superman I found it, your bag," shouts Star. Star picks up the bag and walks towards Superman.

"Joker is that you? Joker. Joker. Give me a beer damnit," demands Superman.

"Careful Star," says Dave as Star approaches Superman.

Superman grabs the bag from Star and stumbles to the ground. He reaches into his bag and pulls out a warm beer and a cigarette as Dave walks over.

"I don't think you need to be drinking Superman," Dave reasons.

"Joker is that you," mumbles Superman as he chugs his warm beer. "Are we still in Vegas."

"We are in the Mojave Desert, California...," explains Dave.

"Mo who," mumbles Superman. "Where's the womens at. Hot damn what a night. Now get me a beer Joker."

"I think you've had one beer to many Superman," Dave says in a stern voice. "Now calm down, we are here to help you," Dave says as he approached Superman again.

"Don't touch me Joker," Superman warns. "Do you know who I am? I'm freaking Superman! I can leap tall buildings in a single bound, I can fly, I can....," Superman throws up on the side of the road. "Can you do that Joker. I don't think so."

"Enough," Dave says grabbing Superman's arm. Superman throws a punch at Dave who blocks it. Dave then throws one punch which lands on Superman's chin, sending him tumbling to the pavement.

Star, Slice and I run over.

"Nice punch," I say to Dave.

"Superman's dead. You killed Superman," screams Star.

"He's not dead," explains Dave. "Unconscious, but not dead. He's lucky we found him as a few more hours in the desert might have killed him."

"Well I'm not sure about Superman, but we do have a car that's kind of stuck," I say.

"Okay I'll carry Superman to the car and then I will see if I can dig us out," Dave reasons.

We all head towards the Camry, it's hood half emerged in sand. Dave puts Superman in the back seat.

"Slice, get in the car. Star, Echo I need your help," commands Dave. Star and I walk out.

"Let's start digging," Dave demands.

Dave, Star and I start shoveling sand with our hands as Slice looks on. Superman is passed out in the backseat. A few minutes later Dave is ready.

"I'm going to need both of you to help me push," explains Dave. "Slice I want you to start the car and put it in reverse. When I scream 'push', hit the gas."

Dave, Star and I position ourselves. I must admit I'm a wee bit envious of Slice but since she's so petite I'm reduced to physical labor. I can't wait for the sand to kick up.

"Push," screams Dave.

The wheels spins, kicking sand into our faces.

"Push," screams Dave.

"I’m freaking pushing," I shout.

"Push," he screams again.

Suddenly the car spins backward and finds the pavement. An exhausted Dave, Star and I fall to the ground.

"Beautiful," Dave says.

We brush ourselves off and head to the car. Superman is slumped in the back, and when we open the doors his aroma fills the air.

"Oh my God Superman reeks," I say.

"I'm not sitting in the back," Slice says.

"Fine, be a b!tch," I say.

"Whatever," Slice replies.

Dave binds Superman's hands together so he doesn't freak out when he comes to. Star and I climb in back and I push Superman over to the left. Star sits to my right.

"We're dumping Superman the first town we see," I demand.

"No argument from me Miss Daisy," Dave smirks.

On to Barstow.

The car is strangely silent as all of us are in a sour mood except Star. I ask Star to crack the window as Superman's aroma is beginning to make me sick.

"I can't believe I'm riding in the same car as Superman," exclaims Star. "When he wakes up can I get his autograph."

"No," I say. "We are not untying Superman. As soon as we get to Barstow we are dumping him off at the police station."

"We can't take Superman to jail," reasons Star.

"Oh yes we can," I reply.

Wonderful. Now Star's in a bad mood too.

About twenty minutes later Superman begins to come to. He wiggles and shakes and mumbles incoherently. He tries to sit upright but is unable to maneuver and his body slides next to mind, his face crashing on top of my breasts.

"You're not the Joker," Superman stammers with an evil grin.

Ick! I push Superman away; his head crashes against the window.

"Sheet," screams Superman.

"Sorry," I say even though his pain didn't bother me in the least.

"Where are we," Superman asks.

"In the desert, headed for Barstow," I reply. "That's the end of the road for you Superman."

"LA...I need to get to LA. I have a screen test Tuesday," Superman begs.

"Tough cookies Supes," I say. "You've been nothing but trouble, why should we drive you to Los Angeles."

Superman begins to weep.

"Life's not fair," he Superman sobs. "I used to be somebody. I was a star. Everybody loved me. Comic book royalties, movie deals, underoos...I had it all. And then, then along came Batman, and Spiderman and the Lord of the Rings. Nobody cared about me."

"Please," I say coldly. "Slice how about some music, I'm sick of listening to this guy."

Slice fumbles with the radio.

Do you worry that you're not liked
How long till you break
You're happy cause you smile
But how much can you fake
An ordinary boy an ordinary name
But ordinary's just not good enough today

Alone I'm thinking
Why is superman dead....

Superman begins to break. "I beg you...please turn that off...."

Superman is dead....

"I guess Superman doesn't like Our Lady Peace," Slice laughs.

"I like to see him suffer," I laugh.

"Please...I beg you," he says.

"What a mess! I sincerely doubt this is the real Superman. I mean just look at him. Drunk, broken down, disheveled. The chest of a twelve year old boy. The belly of a...," okay I am being cruel. "I'm sorry Superman."

He just sobs.

"I know you don't believe me but I am the real Superman. I know all the celebrities in Hollywood. Just take me to LA," he begs.

"Celebrities...what celebrities do you know," I ask. Being the hostess of a wildly successful Reality Show, okay mildly successful, okay at least a Reality Show that hasn't been cancelled I can smell opportunity a mile away. Or six inches, even if it reeks of alcohol. "Better yet what was the last film you were in."

"Titanic," Superman answers.

"Yeah right," I answer sarcastically. "Titanic was a serious film. An epic romance. I don't recall seeing some silly guy in a blue cape."

"Well Superman roles have been hard to find so I've been forced to audition for other roles. In Titanic I played a dead, frozen guy in the ocean. Originally I was supposed to be the dead, frozen guy with the whistle. You know the whistle Kate Winslet blew after Leo sunk to the bottom of the ocean. Those jerks gave it to some fat guy instead. But if you look really closely you can see me about ten yards away. I'm actually quite proud of that role."

"Wow I'm impressed. I guess you and Leo are best buds," I sarcastically reply.

"Leo is a wimp," Supes responds. "Now Arnold, Arnold is the man."

"So you know the Governor of California huh. Sexist pig."

"I know tons of celebrities and if you take me to LA I promise to hook you up. I'm sure your show could use a boost. I may even offer my services," Superman begs.

"Who else do you know," I ask.

"Dennis Hopper, Jack Nicholson, Rosanne Barr, Johnny Depp.."

"JOHNNY DEPP," Slice, Dave and I shout in unison. An embarrassed Dave turns red.

"Yes Johnny Depp". "The man is a party animal," Supes says.

Now Johnny is the one celebrity I would die for. One night with him and my life would be complete. I'm not sure I can trust Superman, but how could I possibly turn down this opportunity. Maybe, just maybe I should reconsider.

"Johnny Depp," I ask again, staring into Superman's eyes.

"Johnny Depp," assures Superman.

Wow! It's obvious three of us in this car have a huge crush on Johnny. And Dave, well Dave has some explaining to do!

The road sign said Barstow 17 miles. 17 miles to decide Superman's future. And I almost forgot about Star. I need to call L82LIFE in Fresno! I had called to L8 before we left Woe, but I promised I would call her back again later this afternoon. She said she needed to tidy up her house, but we were welcome to spend the night. She had never met Star but was thrilled she might get an opportunity to meet him. She too had been looking for Star's mother. She told me how close they had been as children. Deonna was L8's favorite cousin growing up. The last time L8 saw Deonna she was pregnant with Star.

Fifteen minutes later Dave pulls into Barstow. He stops at a station to gas up. I get out to talk to Dave.

"What should we do with Superman," I ask Dave.

"I say we drop him off at the Barstow County Jail," suggests Dave.

"Maybe you're right Dave, but he's been on his best behavior the last 50 miles. Plus he knows JOHNNY DEPP," I argue.

"You're too trusting Echo. Do you honestly believe Superman knows Johnny Depp," Dave asks.

"Well he had you convinced. By the way do I sense a little man crush? I mean I totally understand. Johnny is just sooo sexy."

Dave grips the gas pump, momentarily glances away, and then responds. "Yes I do. If I had to sleep with a man, I would pick Johnny Depp. Satisfied," Dave adds.

"Yes I'm satisfied! I mean I think it's pretty cool you would even openly admit that. Trust me I don't doubt your masculinity or your heterosexuality," I respond.

"Does this mean you and I get to sleep together. I'm pretty sure I could substantiate both claims," he grins.

Dave making his move! The mystery man has really opened up today. But no way I'm going to sleep with him. Well at least not tonight.

"I say Superman stays." "Now I have to make a call, be back in a second," I say.

"I love being in control", I whisper to myself as I head for the phone booth. I reach into my purse and pull out some quarters. This is probably long distance, I hope I have enough. I dial L8's number. "Please deposit two dollars," the automated phone lady demands. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven...seven....seven....I dig deep into the bottom of my purse.....eight.

"You have three minutes,' the automated phone lady says.

"Hello, L8...this is Echo."

"Echo. Echogirl," L8 asks.

"Yes echogirl, how are you"

"Terrific, I'm so excited. I've been cleaning my house," L8 excitedly exclaims.

"Please, don't bother. I'm just happy that Star will finally get to meet someone who is his real family. He's such a sweet kid."

"I'm sure he is and I can't wait to see him. Does he know yet," L8 asks.

"Not yet, I wanted it to be a surprise," I say.

"I have an even bigger surprise," L8 adds. "I found Deonna."

"You what," I almost drop the phone. "You found Star's mother. Where?"

"Merced. She's been in my backyard for 15 years and I didn't even know it. My son found her on the internet. As soon as he did I called her. She is on her way to Fresno."

"Unbelievable. I'm so happy I could cry! I will tell Star we are going to Fresno, but keep this our little secret."
"You have thirty seconds, please insert fifty cents or your call will be disconnected," the automated phone lady says.

"L8 I have to go. Thank you for the wonderful news and I can't wait to meet you," I say.

"No thank you. Please me careful and I will see you soon," L8 says as she hangs up to the phone.

Wow this has been some trip! I walk back to the car in a cheerful mood.

"Could somebody please untie me so I can use the restroom," asks Superman. "And can I have a cigarette."

"Now Superman I'm willing to make a deal," I say. "If you promise to introduce me to Johnny Depp I will agree to untie you, and I will agree to drive you to LA. We have to go to Fresno first, but for only one day."

"Fresno....FRESNO," shouts Superman. "Fresno is the armpit of California. I don't know."

"Well your other option is the Bartsow County Jail. Your decision," I say.

"So I if I introduce you to Johnny Depp you will agree to take me to Los Angeles via Fresno. And you will agree to untie me so I can use the restroom and smoke a cigarette."

"Correct," I answer.

"Deal," Superman agrees. "Now please untie me."

I untie Superman's hands and he steps out of the Camry. He stretches, then lights a cigarette and heads to the Men's Room. He opens the door and finds Star washing his hands.

"You really don't want to see this kid," Supes smiles as he heads to the urinal.

Star leaves the Men's room as Superman pulls down his tights, and begins talking to himself. "A sucker born every day," he laughs, "and I've got four riding with me. Fresno Schmesmo, all in a day's work. I'll play along with their little game and then wham, Superman will strike. They won't know what hit them."

Superman pulls up his tights and leaves the men's room without washing his hands.

to be continued.........


  Alert Edit | Reply | Reply With Quote | Top

  Table of Contents

  Subject     Author     Message Date     ID  
 RE: WSC3 (PN) PTB Saga Pt 3 (Superm... Jims02 01-25-04 1
 RE: WSC3 (PN) PTB Saga Pt 3 (Superm... Schnookie Palookie 01-25-04 2
 RE: WSC3 (PN) PTB Saga Pt 3 (Superm... Sheila 01-25-04 3
 RE: WSC3 (PN) PTB Saga Pt 3 (Superm... nailbone 01-26-04 4
   RE: WSC3 (PN) PTB Saga Pt 3 (Superm... echogirl 01-26-04 5
 RE: WSC3 (PN) PTB Saga Pt 3 (Superm... L82LIFE 01-26-04 6
 RE: WSC3 (PN) PTB Saga Pt 3 (Superm... SherpaDave 01-26-04 7
 RE: WSC3 (PN) PTB Saga Pt 3 (Superm... echogirl 01-30-04 8
   RE: WSC3 (PN) PTB Saga Pt 3 (Superm... SherpaDave 01-30-04 9
   RE: WSC3 (PN) PTB Saga Pt 3 (Superm... Schnookie Palookie 01-30-04 10
   RE: WSC3 (PN) PTB Saga Pt 3 (Superm... L82LIFE 01-30-04 11
   RE: WSC3 (PN) PTB Saga Pt 3 (Superm... probably clueless 01-31-04 12
   RE: WSC3 (PN) PTB Saga Pt 3 (Superm... nailbone 02-16-04 13

Lobby | Topics | Previous Topic | Next Topic

Messages in this topic

Jims02 6971 desperate attention whore postings
DAW Level: "Playboy Centerfold"

01-25-04, 07:24 PM (EST)
Click to EMail Jims02 Click to send private message to Jims02 Click to view user profile Click to check IP address of the poster
1. "RE: WSC3 (PN) PTB Saga Pt 3 (Superman's Dead)"
*huff puff*

Wow, that's a lot of reading! Thanks for writing all this. This is really well written... Such description...

(I've actually read all 3 so far, but I'm always too tired to respond!)

What an ominous ending...


A 2004 IceCat creation

  Remove | Alert Edit | Reply | Reply With Quote | Top

Schnookie Palookie 16822 desperate attention whore postings
DAW Level: "Playboy Centerfold"

01-25-04, 08:31 PM (EST)
Click to EMail Schnookie%20Palookie Click to send private message to Schnookie%20Palookie Click to view user profile Click to check IP address of the poster
2. "RE: WSC3 (PN) PTB Saga Pt 3 (Superman's Dead)"
Another great installment Echo! You've got me hooked! Can't wait for the next one.

Purrrrfect Siggy by the Talented Kittyloaf
*Proud Member of the SoBe Lvoe Butt Connectors*


  Remove | Alert Edit | Reply | Reply With Quote | Top

Sheila 2069 desperate attention whore postings
DAW Level: "Roller Coaster Inaugurator"

01-25-04, 09:17 PM (EST)
Click to EMail Sheila Click to send private message to Sheila Click to view user profile Click to check IP address of the poster
3. "RE: WSC3 (PN) PTB Saga Pt 3 (Superman's Dead)"
Incredible stuff echo! I love it all...ALL of it! You have a wonderful story going right now and I can't wait to see the next 7 or 8 or 9 installments. I was relieved to know that Superman was NOT dead but I was sorta disgusted by his lack of hygiene.

Great job Echo! I wish I had just a smidgen of your talent.

  Remove | Alert Edit | Reply | Reply With Quote | Top

nailbone 27248 desperate attention whore postings
DAW Level: "Playboy Centerfold"

01-26-04, 10:16 AM (EST)
Click to EMail nailbone Click to send private message to nailbone Click to view user profile Click to check IP address of the poster
4. "RE: WSC3 (PN) PTB Saga Pt 3 (Superman's Dead)"

*sigh* Still not in it yet...

Sandra, Panama's Sole Survivor
OT Studmuffin of the Year '03, Prince of Passion, Royal Liaison to Illicit Activities, SB Video Historian, and Vice-President of the GAWKUR Alliance o-
Cool new sig courtesy of Jslice


  Remove | Alert Edit | Reply | Reply With Quote | Top

echogirl 2120 desperate attention whore postings
DAW Level: "Roller Coaster Inaugurator"

01-26-04, 11:46 AM (EST)
Click to EMail echogirl Click to send private message to echogirl Click to view user profile Click to check IP address of the poster
5. "RE: WSC3 (PN) PTB Saga Pt 3 (Superman's Dead)"
*sigh* Still not in it yet...

You're coming soon! You actually play a prominent role in my saga; one of the few characters I planned in advance!

  Remove | Alert Edit | Reply | Reply With Quote | Top

L82LIFE 5333 desperate attention whore postings
DAW Level: "Playboy Centerfold"

01-26-04, 02:31 PM (EST)
Click to EMail L82LIFE Click to send private message to L82LIFE Click to view user profile Click to check IP address of the poster
6. "RE: WSC3 (PN) PTB Saga Pt 3 (Superman's Dead)"
This is just great, Echo! I'm loving this story (and not just because you're headed to my house. Heehee). It really is very interesting and I love how well you let us get to know your characters. Can't wait for the next episode!

  Remove | Alert Edit | Reply | Reply With Quote | Top

SherpaDave 8316 desperate attention whore postings
DAW Level: "Playboy Centerfold"

01-26-04, 08:34 PM (EST)
Click to EMail SherpaDave Click to send private message to SherpaDave Click to view user profile Click to check IP address of the poster
7. "RE: WSC3 (PN) PTB Saga Pt 3 (Superman's Dead)"
Well, now that I've finally broken my silence, I can stop being mysterious and say how much I'm enjoying this and how completely awed I am by the sheer volume of this piece. I'm envious at your ability to write so much in so short a period of time. I wish I could shackle myself to the keyboard and commit to the same kind of output.

And I absolutely love the whole David Lynch feel of this piece, all the weird characters in the middle of nowhere. Very, very cool.


Criminals From the Neck UpThe Writers' Rendez-VousSmokeLong Quarterly

  Remove | Alert Edit | Reply | Reply With Quote | Top

echogirl 2120 desperate attention whore postings
DAW Level: "Roller Coaster Inaugurator"

01-30-04, 01:26 PM (EST)
Click to EMail echogirl Click to send private message to echogirl Click to view user profile Click to check IP address of the poster
8. "RE: WSC3 (PN) PTB Saga Pt 3 (Superman's Dead)"
LAST EDITED ON 01-30-04 AT 01:31 PM (EST)

Okay peeps I apologize as I've been very busy the past few days and have not had time to write much. Episode 4 is about half complete, but it will take me another 2-3 weeks to work everyone into the story. In other words WSC3 will be long over! Do you want me to continue, or is this just too long and silly?

BTW Nailbone I'm still an episode away from your character. Since you are dying to know, you are a Cowboy/Interpretive Dancer Bebo is a bad slam poet/performance artist, Weasel and Jedi are hitmen, Clueless a pawn shop owner, and I'm also working in an all-girl motorcycle gang.

  Remove | Alert Edit | Reply | Reply With Quote | Top

SherpaDave 8316 desperate attention whore postings
DAW Level: "Playboy Centerfold"

01-30-04, 02:02 PM (EST)
Click to EMail SherpaDave Click to send private message to SherpaDave Click to view user profile Click to check IP address of the poster
9. "RE: WSC3 (PN) PTB Saga Pt 3 (Superman's Dead)"
Well, not surprisingly since I'm such a total DAW, I want to see it continue no matter how long it takes.


Criminals From the Neck UpThe Writers' Rendez-VousSmokeLong Quarterly

  Remove | Alert Edit | Reply | Reply With Quote | Top

Schnookie Palookie 16822 desperate attention whore postings
DAW Level: "Playboy Centerfold"

01-30-04, 03:11 PM (EST)
Click to EMail Schnookie%20Palookie Click to send private message to Schnookie%20Palookie Click to view user profile Click to check IP address of the poster
10. "RE: WSC3 (PN) PTB Saga Pt 3 (Superman's Dead)"
Please continue Echo. I love your stories.


*I want to be in the motorcycle gang LOL*


  Remove | Alert Edit | Reply | Reply With Quote | Top

L82LIFE 5333 desperate attention whore postings
DAW Level: "Playboy Centerfold"

01-30-04, 05:00 PM (EST)
Click to EMail L82LIFE Click to send private message to L82LIFE Click to view user profile Click to check IP address of the poster
11. "RE: WSC3 (PN) PTB Saga Pt 3 (Superman's Dead)"
You can't quit before you all make it to Fresno!

Keep writing and posting, Echo, whether it's for the contest or just for our enjoyment. This is a good story.


  Remove | Alert Edit | Reply | Reply With Quote | Top

probably clueless 5782 desperate attention whore postings
DAW Level: "Playboy Centerfold"

01-31-04, 03:02 AM (EST)
Click to EMail probably%20clueless Click to send private message to probably%20clueless Click to view user profile Click to check IP address of the poster
12. "RE: WSC3 (PN) PTB Saga Pt 3 (Superman's Dead)"
I love that you're making Dave out to be the true slut that he is *Oh Oh*. I hope you make me even darker. And can I have some sleazy seax with the biker babes if its not too much trouble?

Thanks EG! Rite On!!


A Kittyloaf®Original
*The 'BUTT' of the SoBe Lvoe Butt Connectors*


  Remove | Alert Edit | Reply | Reply With Quote | Top

nailbone 27248 desperate attention whore postings
DAW Level: "Playboy Centerfold"

02-16-04, 01:20 PM (EST)
Click to EMail nailbone Click to send private message to nailbone Click to view user profile Click to check IP address of the poster
13. "RE: WSC3 (PN) PTB Saga Pt 3 (Superman's Dead)"
A Cowboy/Interpretive Dancer?!?! Holy crap!! You have to continue, Echo! I GOTTA see that!!



OT Studmuffin of the Year '03, Prince of Passion, Royal Liaison to Illicit Activities, SB Video Historian, and Vice-President of the GAWKUR Alliance o-
Cool new sig courtesy of Jslice


  Remove | Alert Edit | Reply | Reply With Quote | Top


Lock | Archive | Remove

Lobby | Topics | Previous Topic | Next Topic

p l a c e h o l d e r t e x t g o e s h e r e - p l a c e h o l d e r t e x t g o e s h e r e - p l a c e h o l d e r t e x t g o e s h e r e - p l a c e h o l d e r t e x t g o e s h e r e - p l a c e h o l d e r t e x t g o e s h e r e - p l a c e h o l d e r t e x t g o e s h e r e - p l a c e h o l d e r t e x t g o e s h e r e - p l a c e h o l d e r t e x t g o e s h e r e - p l a c e h o l d e r t e x t g o e s h e r e - p l a c e h o l d e r t e x t g o e s h e r e - p l a c e h o l d e r t e x t g o e s h e r e - p l a c e h o l d e r t e x t g o e s h e r e -
about this site   •   advertise on this site  •   contact us  •   privacy policy   •