Help me write the next great book...

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At the old Disney Hyperion Studio, the screening room where animators would show animated scenes to Walt for his approval was small, with no ventilation or AC. Not only was it hot, but the animators were nervously awaiting Walt's reaction to their work. Thus, the room became known as the Sweatbox. Even after the Studio moved to Burbank and elegant screening rooms were offered to the staff, the moniker remained.

Now SGT has a sweatbox of our own. This is the place to find and post all entertaining topics such as video links, jokes, games, and the like. A general rule of thumb is that if the thread is meant to be informative (interesting news stories for example), or a topic for discussion (like setting up a park meet) then it should go in the Break Room, but if the intent is to entertain the masses then it's home is The Sweatbox. I'm sure there will be grey areas at times, so if you have doubt as to where a new thread should go, just use your best judgement and the SGT Staff will be glad to move it later if you guessed wrong.
CujoSR
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Help me write the next great book...

Post by CujoSR » Fri Oct 03, 2003 1:50 am

This is as far as i've gotten. Write a few sentences and end with "..." Got it? Ok, let's do it.

On a cold, dark, wintery night, she sat huddled in the darkest corner of the room, petrified...


"A little swordplay, now and then, keeps my mind off sheep!"

"You're messing with my Zen thing, man."

"Dreams are as portals,
flat visions of misty places,
fragments bound below my surface,
but I can write dreams,
they flow from me,
inscribed but now unbound,
I touch them,
and they are real,
and they are real."
Image

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Post by Dante101 » Fri Oct 03, 2003 2:04 am

On a cold, dark, wintery night, she sat huddled in the darkest corner of the room, petrified...
She knew she was all alone, but something in the back of her head kept telling her there was a stranger in the house with her. Then again, she thought, wouldn't the dog be barking like mad if there was? Not if the dog was already dead... Should she try calling for her dog? Would her calls do nothing more than let the stranger know her location in the house?



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Post by Weeble » Fri Oct 03, 2003 2:33 pm

As she pondered these terrifying questions she suddenly realized she had a growing itch on her left leg....


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Post by Dante101 » Sat Oct 04, 2003 11:14 am

She hoped to God it was her dog she felt, but this sudden terrifying fear that held her in its grips prevented her from looking down...



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Post by Weeble » Sat Oct 04, 2003 12:19 pm

With eyes closed, she slowly ran her hand down her thigh and came across something wet and furry. With a yelp, she opened her eyes to find her pooch licking her leg, trying to soothe her fears.
With a sigh of relief she started across the room towards the window, she did not notice the bright red, bloody pawprints on the carpet her dog had left.


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Post by Dante101 » Sat Oct 04, 2003 2:54 pm

A blast of cold air greeted her at the window. The sooner she could get this damn thing closed, the better; but the cold had made the window pane stiff and difficult to move. As she struggled to close it the cold air ate right through her nightgown - right through to the bone. It was one of those nights that made her dream of lying on a hot Summertime California beach. She began daydreaming of that beach, and what a lovely vacation she planned on taking next year. It took her a little while to notice the reflection of a small, mean pair of eyes, staring at her from behind...



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Post by CujoSR » Mon Oct 06, 2003 12:21 am

...She turned and just stared at the eyes. She could not make out the form on the animal but it was small. Was this the thing that made all the noise and scared her so much? She looked at the eyes as if they we probing her, reaching in and knowing every wrong that she had done, judging her...


"A little swordplay, now and then, keeps my mind off sheep!"

"You're messing with my Zen thing, man."

"Dreams are as portals,
flat visions of misty places,
fragments bound below my surface,
but I can write dreams,
they flow from me,
inscribed but now unbound,
I touch them,
and they are real,
and they are real."
Image

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Post by Weeble » Mon Oct 06, 2003 2:20 pm

She strained to get a better glimpse at the creature without trying to appear obvious. The beastie was breathing hard and she self consciously covered her breasts with her hands. The creature outside shifted a sliver of light shone on it's magnificent ears. They were huge, as big as dinner plates. Why did this look so familiar?


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Post by Freak » Tue Oct 07, 2003 6:42 pm

...The creature then took off. After seeing that, she had no idea what to do. She went over to her refridgerator and opened the door....Only to find the head of her beloved dog in there. She then became panicked, and horrifying thoughts began to fly through her head. What was in the house? What licked her? What was that thing outside? She ran into her room where she then saw...


RIP Bud Hurlbut.

You will be missed.

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Post by CujoSR » Wed Oct 08, 2003 2:41 am

...She thought, how did the dog's head get into the fridge when it was just licking her? Why did she not notice this before leaving the room?...

Edited for continuity


"A little swordplay, now and then, keeps my mind off sheep!"

"You're messing with my Zen thing, man."

"Dreams are as portals,
flat visions of misty places,
fragments bound below my surface,
but I can write dreams,
they flow from me,
inscribed but now unbound,
I touch them,
and they are real,
and they are real."
Image

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