Wikipedia:Sandbox/Wikistory (Sentence)

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This is our own example of a One-sentence-at-a-time generated story.

  • Please edit the Wikistory by just adding a single sentence at a time, however after 2 weeks of no modification you may add a consecutive sentence if desired.
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  • Please write your edit summary as: (→Wikistory (Sentence) (started 13th April 2006) - sentence added), where sentence_added is the actual sentence that you added.

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[edit] Wikistory (started 13th April 2006)

Pluto was very pleased with his new red boots. Unlike his equally new iPod they kept his feet dry in the rain. "Life is definitely looking up" he thought to himself as he headed south towards home. Unfortunately he had not factored meeting Gloria into these thoughts. That woman - Gloria - try as he did, he could not forget her - or her auburn hair - damn, damn, damn!

Gloria, meanwhile, was chuckling gaily to herself as she transplanted seedlings in her greenhouse. Suddenly and quite unexpectedly Malcolm Hardee appeared naked and riding a stolen tractor! "Oh my!", exclaimed a now rather flustered Gloria. Hardee was singing to himself and failed to notice the looming Ha-ha until it was too late. Tumbling rapidly A over T with arms flailing wildly he made a comical sight at which Gloria could not help but disolve into a fit of hysterics.

Pluto watched aghast - never before had he seen such buffoonery - and never in Devon in February. Pluto's subconcsious wondered why this last was relevant, given that it was the 28th of June and Pluto was presently standing in Herefordshire. He had also just been given a Letter close by HM Queen Elizabeth II personally, with strict instructions to keep it in his sock drawer - or he'd find himself in the Tower of London - the day was taking a very odd turn!

Oblivious to all this, Henry was on routine patrol in his job as a border guard on a bridge over the River Tamar when he was startled by a sight he'd never before seen in all his 23 years of life. A balding, fat and panting vicar partly derobed and partly wearing a damaged rubbersuit lay across a park bench - tatooed on his forehead was a mysterious message - in what looked like blue biro. Ever curious, Henry peered at the scrawled biro message, "Monday Boscastle, Tuesday Frampton Cotterell, Wednesday Ripon, Thursday Arisaig, Friday Oslo, Saturday Royal Albert Hall, Sunday P.A.R.T.Y." he read aloud to himself.

"That's it - this is the real life Da Vinci code - I can solve this - I know I can." With that, he took a crumpled notepad from his pocket and noted the details down; he then carefully wiped the vicar clean so no one else could find the clues. "Now, where to start? Well, today is Thursday so that is Arisaig...", he muttered to himself before turning to a rather suprised looking squirrel, "Where the hell is Arisaig?" he demanded.

With his atlas on his knee, Henry pulled out of his drive and headed north - "Why Scotland on a Thursday?" he mused "This must be a clue." Musing on what he knew about Scotland, (haggis, tartan, Rab C. Nesbitt) he realised life as a Devonian border guard hadn't really educated him much about what he might find. If he was going to merge in with the locals he would need to be prepared - and so he bought himself a sporran, a kilt and a deep fried Mars bar - fully equiped now he felt confident as he headed north and he was sure that he could smell heather on the breeze! As he was travelling through the Quantock Hills at the time, his assumption that he could smell Scotland was, perhaps, a little premature, but, having never been further north than Chilton Polden, probably more naive than foolish.

The CCTV camera at the Dudley petrol station, showed queer looking man in a kilt and an ill-fitting sporran, covered in what looked like melted chocolate, leaping from the old Transit van - and a member of staff cleaning the pumps heard him shout "Ock the nooh" at a startled Brummie who promptly thumped him on the nose. "By the last rolo in my aubergine patch, I shall avenge that thump on the nose!" cried the queer looking man, flashing Brummie with a torchlight. However, Brummie was not to be outdone, he utilized his most divine ability and squeezed the man with a force choke.

Defeated and confused, Henry fled - he had to get to Scotland today - otherwise it'd have to be Oslo. As Oslo was not on his map of the British Isles, not getting to Scotland was not an option Henry wanted to consider. Mile after mile he went, the transit wheezing under the strain; eventually in the Blue hour he passed Gretna green. His days of historical reenactment were over, but gloaming on the green reminded him of faux-Paris before the faux-war, while the green flash on the horizon reminded him of how he first met Gloria, lying on that authentic antique cot with a lung full of authentic German chlorine.

Anyway - enough of these memories - pressing on, stimulated by Red Bull he finally he arrived at Arisaig - it was the arse end of nowhere - what could the significance of this place be he wondered. Something was wrong in the village, that much was clear, but Henry couldn't quite put his finger on what exactly it was. Then, after walking the length of the village he noticed what it was - every building had a piece of blue jelly sellotaped to it - to the left hand side of a gound floor window! "Excuse me madam, may I...", he started to ask the first passing villager he saw, but the completely blank look he got in return suggested she could not understand his accent. He briefly toyed with the idea of affecting a Scottish accent, but since he feared he would sprain his mouth in the process, Henry decided instead to gesticulate wildly towards the nearest blue glob, trying to indicate amazement, or possibly puzzlement. Unfortunately for Henry, upon seeing an unwashed, hairy man who could not speak properly start to flail his arms around and pull faces at her, Elspeth decided the safest thing to do was to run away. "Hamish, Hamish, come quickly John Prescott is here and he's after me." she cried.

Running so hard, Henry didn't notice his cell phone vibrating until it stopped: "1 missed call." Panting, he stopped and pressed re-dial.

Lounging in the public bar of the Red Lion Inn in Hereford, Pluto was most suprised when his mobile phone began warbling the BBC Cricket theme tune at him.

"What a cointhidenth," slurred Pluto, "I just called you!"

"So what was it you wanted? I'm on the verge of solving the greatest mystery since the sinking of the Titanic here", Henry replied huffily.

"I need help getting the bananas out of the blender!" Pluto cried.

"Oh, just turn it off and turn it upside down over whatever you want to put the bananas in... say, what do you know about blue jelly?" replied Henry.

Pluto grinned, "That without using real blueberries you can never get the real taste experience...."

"No you buffoon, why would blue jelly be sellotaped to houses in a Scottish village?"

"Scotland? The Titanic didn't have anything to do with Scotland?" Or did it? suddenly a very interesting thought flashed into his mind.

"The Titanic? What has the Titanic got to do with anything?" asked a very confused Henry, unaware of Pluto thought processes. Meanwhile a large blob of blue jelly was flung at him by a wizened old man hiding behind a wall. Henry tried to chase after the man, but the stranger sped off in his Edsel. As the man fled cackling to himself, the unmistakable sweet sickly smell of an illegal smoke wafted behind him. Scraping jelly off the side of his face he noticed movement out of the corner of his eye, turning his head he saw three young girls, clearly triplets, each holding an ornate carriage clock.

The eldest, a winsome looking girl of about fourteen, gently opening the back of her clock and pulled out the head of a dandelion - "Look girls" she said.

"Sssh!", exclaimed her equally fourteen-year-old and equally winsome, but 9¾-minutes-younger sister, "You know we aren't supposed to show the Dandelions of Wrath to just anyone!". But it was too late - Henry had not only heard the girls, he had now also seen it - the Dandelion of Wrath. Not that he knew what a Dandelion of Wrath was, about to ask one of three girls he stopped, remembering what had happened last time he'd tried to communicate with a local.

The images of that rainy Saturday about a year ago flooded back to him. The horror of waking up naked in Montségur with a half eaten picnic laying next to him still haunted him along with the faces of those awful leering Japanese tourists taking pictures of him. "Get some freaking veneers," he thought, as he remembered their nasty teeth. Meanwhile, the middle girl (milk bottle glasses and teeth braces) approached him with a tape measure.

"This can't be him," she said, "he's too small!" "Let me see" said the older girl, grabbing the tape measure. "Yep, far too tiny," she said. "And much too big for it to be John Prescott" They said in unison - and they all giggled.

Milk squirted gleefully out of their noses. This made Henry feel very uncomfortable - a feeling that got worse as the elder girl (Rixende) unsheathed a large Bowie knife. Suddenly a shrill voice shouted - "Rixende, put that bloody knife away - I've warned you about this before - I thought the last incident with the vicar had taught you a lesson!"

Before Rixende could reply, a Dornier Do 17 flew over and dropped three hundred pounds of used tea leaves on Buckingham Palace - (their name for Mrs McMussons tea rooms cum welding shop). It was piloted by an infinite number of monkeys using an infinite number of typewriters to ghostwrite Hamlet for Shakespeare. Mrs McMusson was having none of this and demanded a deposit before she plated up the cream teas - and refused to feed an infinite number of monkeys - whatever John Prescott said.

Naturally, John Prescott was up in arms over the situation. In fact he was so cross, he thumped the table and shouted "Mandy, Mandy, Mandy - it's all your fault." With this last expletive he went purple in the face and collapsed into a steaming bowl of egg-drop soup. "Somebody save him!" shouted Mrs McMussons. This was never going to be a good idea, due to unforeseen circumstances, which shall be discussed later.

Meanwhile, Police constable Eric McNulty seeing the extraordinary events from his passing car, pulled over to investigate. The car exploded.

"Bugger!", exclaimed Eric, "I only got this kilt cleaned yesterday!"

Then the universe imploded.

However, the universe had not anticipated what horrible ends the tiny planet of Earth had come to in recent times; it tasted like a combination of concrete and metal (the universe particularly disliked metal), and the overpowering assault on the senses made it shudder and de-plode almost as fast as it had imploded to begin with.

Although the implosion and deplosion happened too fast to be perceived by the inhabitants of planet Earth, they did suddenly find themselves seven feet east of where they thought they ought to be.

Although this was not not much of a problem for most people Kyra Phillips was then visiting her sister in-law and at the moment before the implosion standing on the end of Clevedon pier.

After this horrible implosion, thousands of shards of the Wikistory clumped together and formed dark matter. The mystery was pulling Henry in, spinning him round faster than it seemed possible, but the visible pieces just didn't add up.

Most palms are distinguished by their large, compound, evergreen leaves arranged at the top of an unbranched stem. Henry's palms were distinguished by sweat, sticky blue residue, and a few drops of milk.

Pluto awakened. "Sorry, mate, I thought I heard something about 'dandy lines of math'."

"No, I said Mandy lies in death..." said Eric.

"That would explain it" said constable McNulty, who was still nearby "...and because you, Mr Mandelson are a force of darkness might also explain why my discreet Police Stirling engine which I had carefully placed on the back of your neck is not moving!"

"Yes, I am the ultimate source of Zero Point Energy" said Mandy, "and you will never catch me pig!" With that, a strange, lingering puff of white smoke suddenly appeared, along with a weird popping noise and suddenly there was silence - and no Mandy!

Then a nearby TV sputtered into life and Fiona Bruce announced that Kyra Phillips had been found drowned off Clevedon Pier - she was found naked apart from a Northampton Saints rugby shirt and was bizarely holding a china mug printed with a picture of John Prescott. The mug was unbroken due to the it and the body being found on a huge pile of used tea leaves that had previously been dumped off the end of Clevedon Pier.

As always, the ever vigilent constable McNulty was soon on the case - fearing it might be another case of the famous "Clevedon Tea Bag" gang, he telephoned his colleague Warwick Alabaster in the serious tea-crime group at Scotland Yard. Inspector Alabaster arrived and setup interviews with the members of the infamous "Clevedon Tea Bag" gang, John Prescott, Hazel Blears, and Charles Clarke.

Meanwhile 250 miles north, after making sure that there was no blue Jelly on him, Henry sat eating a tea cake with a lovely cup of Assam tea in Mrs Doobrie's tea shop - before him lay his diary. So far the entry for thursday read : Pluto and Gloria still having problems with their relationship, vicar biro tattoo clue points to Arisaig, blue jelly sellotaped to cottages, Kyra Phillips killed by "Clevedon Tea Bag" gang (most of the the UK Cabinet?) .. Quite a quiet day for a Thurday Henry thought.

There must be a common theme - it is just all too random to actually be random he thought - and then smiled quietly to himself, as a glimmer of a pattern began to emerge. He took a long breath, threw the remains of his tea cake into his jacket pocket, and headed to the bluest, wobbliest place he could think of: the North Sea, nature's equivalent of blue jelly - he'd have to cross it anyway to get to Oslo. On second thoughts, he took the easier route and sent a return ferry ticket to Oslo so it could come to him.

On the ferry an unusually charming Nowergian going by the name of Sven siddled up to him at the bar and in a stage whisper said, "I hear that Rome is very pretty at this time of year". Henry replied "..and the fountains are particularly mellifluous this month". With that Sven slipped a small package in a Jiffy bag into his pocket and walked off whistling "Scotland the brave" two tones flat. Henry thought, two tones flat? I that's strange I was expecting him to whistle a semitone flat? It was so strange in fact, that Henry pulled out a rifle and shot Sven in the back. Constable McNulty was about to arrest him but acting on a hunch checked the Jiffy bag in Henry's pocket and the Scotland yard Lab Girls (Super efficient as ever!) confirmed immediately that it contained an extremely powerful mind altering drug that had affected Henry's mind, so McNulty just charged him with carrying a weapon without a licence and let him continue his journey.

Constable McNulty, now under the influence of the extremely powerful mind altering drug, decided he was a sabre-toothed tiger and started devouring a nearby gazelle. How the gazelle got on board a north sea ferry Henry would never know, but now recovered from the drug he continued his journey, as McNulty was taken away whilst David Attenborough haranged him.

Suddenly the intercom crackled into life "This is Olaf, your Captain, we will be entering Olso harbour in about 20 minutes time so please have your passports and other possessions ready for disemarkation. Oh yes, on the port side of the ship on the coast land there - you can just make out the Christian nudist camp which is very famous here."

Unfortunately so many people rushed to the port side, the vessel started to list dramatically. One elderly Swede was so overcome at the sight of the naked Christians on the shore that she claimed to have a vision of a naked Angel. "Angel, schmangel", said a particularly brash American who happened to be standing nearby. "That's no Angel - its my sister Elspeth! and she's meant to be a nun!"" "Well, I've seen none better than that!" said a nearby lecher who was disguised as a Pōhutukawa.

"Wow!", drooled the elderly Swede, "She can give me communion any time..."

Suddenly, the sky darkened and it turned deathly cold - everyone began to shiver and then from behind a tree emerged a figure dressed in black and carrying a scythe."lol"! explained the figure moving into the light, revealing a pimply faced 14 year old. "Don't be afraid" he lisped, "I am The Star Wars Kid."" The ferry-folk sighed with relief and, emboldened by the revelation that this dark figure was in fact not Bengt Ekerot, approached the Star Wars Kid cautiously, only to turn and flee when he began awkwardly disemboweling an embarrassingly large number of them with his golf ball retriever/scythe.

Just when all looked lost, the Star Wars Kid's light sabre broke into a thousand pieces - and a strange and haunting gurgling noise started to come from the Kid's throat. As a Like-Like crawled out of his mouth, he fell to the ground, dead.

From the back of the crowd, a lone voice shouted, "Let me through, my name is Poirot - Hercule Poirot." and an impressively moustached and rotund Belgian emerged carrying a slightly soiled umbrella. "But you're not Poirot - you can't be - he's dead." shouted a disturbed and slightly soiled catamite who had just arrived, looking rather flustered.

"Of course he's not," yelled another man in the crowd, "He's Bertie Wooster - I'd recognise that cravat anywhere". But before they could, a female vampire pwned Poirot and pwned Bertie in the balls, missing his jugular, but getting a mouthful of testicles. Gasping for air, Wooster stood up and promptly fell over again. "Anna" he cried before passing out. However, a shitty F-4 phantom crashed on everybody and killed them. "Oops," the pilot said.

The ambulance arrived quickly at the scene with blues and twos blarring. "WTF", asked the medic. Why was he flying this outdated F-15 when he should have been flying an F-22 Raptor? The answer was that his newly ordered and especially converted ambulance bi-plane a de Havilland Tiger Moth had not arrived from Biggin Hill. But then that frigging nerd from that damn show had to stink up everything and tried to hijack someone's laptop.

Amidst the Grey's-esque ferry boat chaos, Henry was torn between two equally distasteful courses of action.

[edit] See also

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