Archives: Week 1: Floor Fall Issue 2010
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Week 1, Fall Issue 2010
Date: 2010/07/15 01:57 By: tqr Status: Admin
Karma: -1999976
Admin
Posts: 2149
How do you like your new portal? Can you say copyright infringement? Nein! Oh, and don't mind that nincompoop, raygun. I think he got shot or something and is operating on half a loaf.
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Re:Week 1, Fall Issue 2010
Date: 2010/07/15 06:18 By: doomey Status: Admin
Karma: -1760
Admin
Posts: 1482
[doomey, standing by his desk, head down, sighs. theo watches doomey expectantly. as time passes, theo becomes aggitated. he taps his foot. his cheek twitches, some new facial tic. he crosses arms and glares at doomey. minutes tick by. tick tock. out in the lobby, someone screams. doomey comes to life. he grabs a ream of typed sheets from his desk, steps up to theo and shoves the manuscript up under theo's nose, startling the poor old shark-toothed bastard]
you sent me this? this...this...
[doomey shakes the pages. a few sheets come free and glide to the glass tiles. the mirrorball above creaks]
you sent me a story? i don't examine stories, ted! fuck!
[doomey throws the manuscript back toward his desk. papers twirl and float upward and sideways and downwards, and the Floor is a fluttering snowstorm of typewritten...story]
you sent me a fucking story.
[doomey grabs a page from the air. he shows theo the font typed on the page, pushes it at theo, quides it in real close so there won't be any mistaking what their talking about. theo must be able to smell the ink. the blue haired son of a bitch looks a little nervous]
this is a play slash movie script that's been sent to me by mistake, ted. you know damn well i have clients in the wings just chomping at the bit to tear me limb from limb come the end of the quarter if i don't supply goodstuff. you know this to be true, ted. you can wax poetic all day long about how we've been here, toiling under your thumb, for five long fucking years, but, hey, man, i mean, come on. come on! things haven't changed since day one, sister! i examine capital! i don't do this...this...
[doomey shakes the page]
bullshit, ted!
[doomey walks over to the Porthole, opens it, and then he shoves the page out into the deluge]
there. you happy, ted? dane robinson's Death Blooms at the Edge has been fucking shitcanned! it's been Portholed. i mean, is it a play, ted? with a horse drawn carriage in it? is it a movie script with acts 1 and 2? what the fuck is this, ted?
[doomey races around, collecting pages from the tiles, from his desk, from Dep's hammock. he collects a handfull and then he goes to the Porthole and shoves it all out into the stormy gloom, and then goes about collecting more]
don't do this to me, ted. i do not want to fucking die again, buddy. i need goodstuff or they're going to fucking murder me, okay? if those pussies out there are gonna just send in fucking stories...
[doomey convulses. he gathers his wits, collects the last of the pages and shoves them out into the deluge]
if they're just going to send us stories, then you can count me right the fuck out, ted.
[doomey breathes deep. he moves to his desk and sits, the desk chair squeaks as he leans back. he taps out a smoke and lights it up, sucking in some sweet, sweet smoke]
if your gonna fuck me up the ass,ted, at least buy me a fucking drink first, please. see, i'm being nice. i said please.
[doomey smiles]
so how you been, motherfucker?
The topic has been locked.
Re:Week 1, Fall Issue 2010
Date: 2010/07/18 23:55 By: doomey Status: Admin
Karma: -1760
Admin
Posts: 1482
[rorschalk has gone dumb, it would seem]
fine. hey. snap out of it, ted. go upstairs, shuffle your little forms around and read your gmails and send down some proper capital, please.
[doomey watches theo. what is this? a stare-off?]
i was...being nice there.
[seconds tick by]
i'm sorry. okay? i am sorry.
[theodore blinks]
you can just go upstairs now.
[doesn't look like theo is going anywhere]
DeP?
[looks like DePlancher's stepped out to the powder room to freshen up]
come on. ted. come on. hey.
[not much to report]
fuck.
[doomey slides from his chair and crawls under his cherrywood. the mirrorball creaks]
The topic has been locked.
Re:Week 1, Fall Issue 2010
Date: 2010/07/19 12:37 By: tqr Status: Admin
Karma: -1999976
Admin
Posts: 2149
[Rorschalk blinks for the first time since he's been staring in Doomey's general direction, as if some binary code had finally bridged the synapse gap in his genetic hard drive]
In a castle dark, or a fortess strong ...
[He turns and begins to leave, lapsing from song to poem with non sequitorial aplomp]
dark and deep ... promise to keep ... metres to go until I schlep...
as you were!
The topic has been locked.
Re:Week 1, Fall Issue 2010
Date: 2010/07/20 06:40 By: doomey Status: Admin
Karma: -1760
Admin
Posts: 1482
[doomey pokes his head out, sees the coast is clear, the tiles are ted-free, and he crawls from under his desk, swiping at his suit front to remove the dust bunnies and dirt moles]
well, that's a relief.
[a note has appeared on his desk]
where the fuck?
[doomey picks up the note and reads]
to all whom it may concern.
[doomey looks around the Floor. eyes the note once more]
we are sorry for the lack of professionalism we are posing, but our staff and technical knowhow are fucked. if this slows down your life, we are, once again, sorry. signed, gmail staff.
hm. gmail. those bastards.
The topic has been locked.
Re:Week 1, Fall Issue 2010
Date: 2010/07/20 06:45 By: doomey Status: Admin
Karma: -1760
Admin
Posts: 1482
[doomey starts awake. he must have dozed off sitting at his desk. he spies a mound of capital that's been stealthily delivered to his cherrywood, left on the corner of his desk. he grabs up a parcel, reads the return address]
Anna Sykora. hm.
[doomey taps out a pall mall, lights up, and then he proceeds to rip into this new batch of capital. is that a smile on his face? smoke fills the Floor...]
The topic has been locked.
Re:Week 1, Fall Issue 2010
Date: 2010/07/21 02:52 By: deplancher Status: Admin
Karma: 14
Admin
Posts: 1058
[DeP yawns. She has fallen asleep in her chair yet again. She looks around the room, wide-eyed. All is still. Doomey's asleep too. Their chairs are not so comfortable but they appear good enough for Floorites]
Whoa! Where'd all this stuff come from? Postman's been holding out.
[She flips through the stacks of capital. TQR, despite the spring hiatus, has not been forgotten by the masses of misfits staying up late to develop the plot conjured up on the way home. She picks one from the middle, the font beckoning to her like a lonesome child on the side of the highway.]
Viens, ma petite. After I splash some water on my face, you and I will take a journey.
[DeP makes her way quietly to the water closet. Somewhere nearby, there is non-instand coffee brewing. She inhales. That breath may be all the breakfast she can expect. At least for now.]
Five days back and already behind. This place....this place!
The topic has been locked.
Re:Week 1, Fall Issue 2010
Date: 2010/07/22 06:44 By: doomey Status: Admin
Karma: -1760
Admin
Posts: 1482
[doomey looks up. he hadn't been asleep afterall. just thinking]
yeah. this place. look at what this joker sent me.
[doomey holds up what he'd found in the latest parcel. a bottle of thunderbird wine covered with crushed eggshell and chicken feathers]
crazy bastards. but you know what?
[doomey stands and walks the capital over to the tube. he flicks the switch with a great whooosh and sends the capital upward]
i like the cut of sykora's gib. anna sykora's megachicken has been Terminalized, baby.
[doomey wanders back to his cherrywood. he drags a fingertip along the desktop]
man alive, this place needs a cleaning. i wonder where jesus got his-stupid-self to this time. wonder if he needs bail.
The topic has been locked.
Re:Week 1, Fall Issue 2010
Date: 2010/07/23 06:45 By: doomey Status: Admin
Karma: -1760
Admin
Posts: 1482
[doomey rips into some fresh cap]
let see here. from Jaqueline Seewald. heavy.
[doomey reaches into the parcel and pulls out a hunk of cement. on one side the surface is grey and rough, but the other side is smooth and painted blue]
this here appears to be from a swimming pool, eh?
[he pulls out a pamphlet concerning exercise equipment. he leafs through it. he grimaces]
nasty.
[doomey searches through the parcel for more stuff. he comes up with a wedding ring. once a nice ring, it's been snipped and twisted, like maybe it'd been through some natural disaster or maybe a car wreck. doomey puts all these peices of the capital in front of him on the cherrywood, he rearranges them, he gazes at them. he shuts his eyes...]
The topic has been locked.
Re:Week 1, Fall Issue 2010
Date: 2010/07/26 00:07 By: doomey Status: Admin
Karma: -1760
Admin
Posts: 1482
[doomey stands and marches over to the Porthole carrying the latest cap in his arms. doomey can best be described as frail, thin-boned, so this heavy cap weighs him down. by the time he reaches the Porthole he is winded and dragging his feet. he stuffs everything out the little window]
the matter has been judged...
[he pauses to catch his breath]
and, well, i am dumping Jacqueline Seewald's A Cold Place to Die to the winds, the storm, the deluge. i know, i know, boil, boil, toil and trouble, i am an asshole. been cursed many times over, and i am going to die a slow death. big whoop.
[he wanders over to his desk. after a few beats he raises his head and barks...]
god, i'm bored!
Week 1, Fall Issue 2010
Date: 2010/07/15 01:57 By: tqr Status: Admin
Karma: -1999976
Admin
Posts: 2149
How do you like your new portal? Can you say copyright infringement? Nein! Oh, and don't mind that nincompoop, raygun. I think he got shot or something and is operating on half a loaf.
The topic has been locked.
Re:Week 1, Fall Issue 2010
Date: 2010/07/15 06:18 By: doomey Status: Admin
Karma: -1760
Admin
Posts: 1482
[doomey, standing by his desk, head down, sighs. theo watches doomey expectantly. as time passes, theo becomes aggitated. he taps his foot. his cheek twitches, some new facial tic. he crosses arms and glares at doomey. minutes tick by. tick tock. out in the lobby, someone screams. doomey comes to life. he grabs a ream of typed sheets from his desk, steps up to theo and shoves the manuscript up under theo's nose, startling the poor old shark-toothed bastard]
you sent me this? this...this...
[doomey shakes the pages. a few sheets come free and glide to the glass tiles. the mirrorball above creaks]
you sent me a story? i don't examine stories, ted! fuck!
[doomey throws the manuscript back toward his desk. papers twirl and float upward and sideways and downwards, and the Floor is a fluttering snowstorm of typewritten...story]
you sent me a fucking story.
[doomey grabs a page from the air. he shows theo the font typed on the page, pushes it at theo, quides it in real close so there won't be any mistaking what their talking about. theo must be able to smell the ink. the blue haired son of a bitch looks a little nervous]
this is a play slash movie script that's been sent to me by mistake, ted. you know damn well i have clients in the wings just chomping at the bit to tear me limb from limb come the end of the quarter if i don't supply goodstuff. you know this to be true, ted. you can wax poetic all day long about how we've been here, toiling under your thumb, for five long fucking years, but, hey, man, i mean, come on. come on! things haven't changed since day one, sister! i examine capital! i don't do this...this...
[doomey shakes the page]
bullshit, ted!
[doomey walks over to the Porthole, opens it, and then he shoves the page out into the deluge]
there. you happy, ted? dane robinson's Death Blooms at the Edge has been fucking shitcanned! it's been Portholed. i mean, is it a play, ted? with a horse drawn carriage in it? is it a movie script with acts 1 and 2? what the fuck is this, ted?
[doomey races around, collecting pages from the tiles, from his desk, from Dep's hammock. he collects a handfull and then he goes to the Porthole and shoves it all out into the stormy gloom, and then goes about collecting more]
don't do this to me, ted. i do not want to fucking die again, buddy. i need goodstuff or they're going to fucking murder me, okay? if those pussies out there are gonna just send in fucking stories...
[doomey convulses. he gathers his wits, collects the last of the pages and shoves them out into the deluge]
if they're just going to send us stories, then you can count me right the fuck out, ted.
[doomey breathes deep. he moves to his desk and sits, the desk chair squeaks as he leans back. he taps out a smoke and lights it up, sucking in some sweet, sweet smoke]
if your gonna fuck me up the ass,ted, at least buy me a fucking drink first, please. see, i'm being nice. i said please.
[doomey smiles]
so how you been, motherfucker?
The topic has been locked.
Re:Week 1, Fall Issue 2010
Date: 2010/07/18 23:55 By: doomey Status: Admin
Karma: -1760
Admin
Posts: 1482
[rorschalk has gone dumb, it would seem]
fine. hey. snap out of it, ted. go upstairs, shuffle your little forms around and read your gmails and send down some proper capital, please.
[doomey watches theo. what is this? a stare-off?]
i was...being nice there.
[seconds tick by]
i'm sorry. okay? i am sorry.
[theodore blinks]
you can just go upstairs now.
[doesn't look like theo is going anywhere]
DeP?
[looks like DePlancher's stepped out to the powder room to freshen up]
come on. ted. come on. hey.
[not much to report]
fuck.
[doomey slides from his chair and crawls under his cherrywood. the mirrorball creaks]
The topic has been locked.
Re:Week 1, Fall Issue 2010
Date: 2010/07/19 12:37 By: tqr Status: Admin
Karma: -1999976
Admin
Posts: 2149
[Rorschalk blinks for the first time since he's been staring in Doomey's general direction, as if some binary code had finally bridged the synapse gap in his genetic hard drive]
In a castle dark, or a fortess strong ...
[He turns and begins to leave, lapsing from song to poem with non sequitorial aplomp]
dark and deep ... promise to keep ... metres to go until I schlep...
as you were!
The topic has been locked.
Re:Week 1, Fall Issue 2010
Date: 2010/07/20 06:40 By: doomey Status: Admin
Karma: -1760
Admin
Posts: 1482
[doomey pokes his head out, sees the coast is clear, the tiles are ted-free, and he crawls from under his desk, swiping at his suit front to remove the dust bunnies and dirt moles]
well, that's a relief.
[a note has appeared on his desk]
where the fuck?
[doomey picks up the note and reads]
to all whom it may concern.
[doomey looks around the Floor. eyes the note once more]
we are sorry for the lack of professionalism we are posing, but our staff and technical knowhow are fucked. if this slows down your life, we are, once again, sorry. signed, gmail staff.
hm. gmail. those bastards.
The topic has been locked.
Re:Week 1, Fall Issue 2010
Date: 2010/07/20 06:45 By: doomey Status: Admin
Karma: -1760
Admin
Posts: 1482
[doomey starts awake. he must have dozed off sitting at his desk. he spies a mound of capital that's been stealthily delivered to his cherrywood, left on the corner of his desk. he grabs up a parcel, reads the return address]
Anna Sykora. hm.
[doomey taps out a pall mall, lights up, and then he proceeds to rip into this new batch of capital. is that a smile on his face? smoke fills the Floor...]
The topic has been locked.
Re:Week 1, Fall Issue 2010
Date: 2010/07/21 02:52 By: deplancher Status: Admin
Karma: 14
Admin
Posts: 1058
[DeP yawns. She has fallen asleep in her chair yet again. She looks around the room, wide-eyed. All is still. Doomey's asleep too. Their chairs are not so comfortable but they appear good enough for Floorites]
Whoa! Where'd all this stuff come from? Postman's been holding out.
[She flips through the stacks of capital. TQR, despite the spring hiatus, has not been forgotten by the masses of misfits staying up late to develop the plot conjured up on the way home. She picks one from the middle, the font beckoning to her like a lonesome child on the side of the highway.]
Viens, ma petite. After I splash some water on my face, you and I will take a journey.
[DeP makes her way quietly to the water closet. Somewhere nearby, there is non-instand coffee brewing. She inhales. That breath may be all the breakfast she can expect. At least for now.]
Five days back and already behind. This place....this place!
The topic has been locked.
Re:Week 1, Fall Issue 2010
Date: 2010/07/22 06:44 By: doomey Status: Admin
Karma: -1760
Admin
Posts: 1482
[doomey looks up. he hadn't been asleep afterall. just thinking]
yeah. this place. look at what this joker sent me.
[doomey holds up what he'd found in the latest parcel. a bottle of thunderbird wine covered with crushed eggshell and chicken feathers]
crazy bastards. but you know what?
[doomey stands and walks the capital over to the tube. he flicks the switch with a great whooosh and sends the capital upward]
i like the cut of sykora's gib. anna sykora's megachicken has been Terminalized, baby.
[doomey wanders back to his cherrywood. he drags a fingertip along the desktop]
man alive, this place needs a cleaning. i wonder where jesus got his-stupid-self to this time. wonder if he needs bail.
The topic has been locked.
Re:Week 1, Fall Issue 2010
Date: 2010/07/23 06:45 By: doomey Status: Admin
Karma: -1760
Admin
Posts: 1482
[doomey rips into some fresh cap]
let see here. from Jaqueline Seewald. heavy.
[doomey reaches into the parcel and pulls out a hunk of cement. on one side the surface is grey and rough, but the other side is smooth and painted blue]
this here appears to be from a swimming pool, eh?
[he pulls out a pamphlet concerning exercise equipment. he leafs through it. he grimaces]
nasty.
[doomey searches through the parcel for more stuff. he comes up with a wedding ring. once a nice ring, it's been snipped and twisted, like maybe it'd been through some natural disaster or maybe a car wreck. doomey puts all these peices of the capital in front of him on the cherrywood, he rearranges them, he gazes at them. he shuts his eyes...]
The topic has been locked.
Re:Week 1, Fall Issue 2010
Date: 2010/07/26 00:07 By: doomey Status: Admin
Karma: -1760
Admin
Posts: 1482
[doomey stands and marches over to the Porthole carrying the latest cap in his arms. doomey can best be described as frail, thin-boned, so this heavy cap weighs him down. by the time he reaches the Porthole he is winded and dragging his feet. he stuffs everything out the little window]
the matter has been judged...
[he pauses to catch his breath]
and, well, i am dumping Jacqueline Seewald's A Cold Place to Die to the winds, the storm, the deluge. i know, i know, boil, boil, toil and trouble, i am an asshole. been cursed many times over, and i am going to die a slow death. big whoop.
[he wanders over to his desk. after a few beats he raises his head and barks...]
god, i'm bored!
posted by Theodore Q. Rorschalk at
12:00 PM
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