Story-writing

[Metabarca]

I see by the poetry post that we are all in wistful, creative mood, and from the Ellen/Kylie post that imagination is running riot. I therefore propose a story written by committee, with no more than 2 sentences per post. Let's see where this gets us (Kimmed probably, given that what's in my bilges is mostly cleaner than your minds!).

"Revving the engine, I had Sheila operate the windlass, while Robin and Bruce prepared the sails. With only a minor leak from the heads outlet valve, and 50 tins of non-brand meat pies in the lockers, we were ready for our adventure on the ocean blue!"

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[jimi]

With a bang crash wallop the engine ground to a halt. Robin paused, unfolding the main.

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[ShipsWoofy]

Lucian looking towards Robin started jumping up and down like a small terrier, "what the hell have you stopped unfurling that main for, can't you see those rocks 3/4 mile away?" Robing replied, rather sheepishly, "I thought without an engine we would have to call the lifeboat, I was waiting for you to tell me to pack the sail away again!"

<hr width=100% size=1><A target="_blank" HREF=http://www.topcatsail.co.uk>New and updated website</A>

 

[Sgeir]

Suddenly the truth came to Bruce in a blinding flash. He knew that Lucian's judgement was not reliable. 50 tins of non-brand meat pies when there was a much better well known alternative known as...

<hr width=100% size=1>Err...

 

[cindersailor]

At that moment Bruce's train of thought was interupted by an aroma emanating from the open hatchway which had became too powerful to ignore and he went below to investigate. It was not long before he returned looking a little anxious and announced that the contents of the holding tank had disgourged themselves into the non-existant bilges, and then made his way to the pushpit.

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[Sgeir]

"Impossible" thought Lucian, "I'd emptied the holding tank into the Marina just the other day".

<hr width=100% size=1>Err...

 

[Metabarca]

Lucian exclaimed: "Who said I was taking part in this story and in a bilgeless boat to boot? Bruce, call Jimi on the VHF: he knows what to do in a post-head-use negative dump situation, and Robin, stop smoking those meat-flavoured cheroots and haul up the main, then start bailing".

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[cindersailor]

Sheila decided to take charge, she had waited a long time for this holiday and was certainly not going to let it end in disater within the first five minutes. She shifted the morse control into reverse and shouted "Hey Bruce stop barffing and get below and turn the engine flywheel over", she then pulled on the main sheet which had gone overboard while she was up on the foredeck. "Why me"? wimpered Bruce, "because you've already got Sh**y shoes" barked Sheila.

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[jimi]

this woz more than Bruce, the Ozzie whinger, could take. He screamed, "They're the finest Dubarry's, how dare you criticize them you fat dyke!"

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[Metabarca]

"Duck", screamed Robin.
"No, dyke", yelled Bruce back at him.
"NO, I meant..." Too late, he thought, as the boom swiped Bruce and tossed him into the sea, at the same time wrapping the main sheet around Sheila's ankles and dunking her head down in the bucket full of..."

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[StugeronSteve]

With the main now set and responding to the breeze's gentle caress, the boat stirred into life, drawn towards the call of the ocean. All thought of pies cast away, like driftwood, the crew succombed to the sensual motion of the boat, as she rose and fell on the remnants of an atlantic swell, sea and yacht, as one, like two lovers in union, carrying them away, westward, into the evening.

<hr width=100% size=1>Think I'll draw some little rabbits on my head, from a distance they might be mistaken for hairs.

 

[cindersailor]

"Shall we go back and get Bruce" said Lucian. "No" growled Sheila.

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[Sgeir]

Robin was starting to think something may be amiss about this boat. "I think it's time we asked the coastguard for another radio check!"

<hr width=100% size=1>Err...

 

[marina95]

"just lob him one of those blown meat pie tins, that'll keep him afloat" she continued.


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[Evadne]

"Too late," growled Robin, "he's been run over by that fleet of racing dingies we've been sailing through."

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[Metabarca]

Just then, they heard a loud ping...

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[StugeronSteve]

Still grinding away at the, now smoking, windlass, Sheila was oblivious to the presence of the anchor, already safely stowed. Exerting ever more force on the taught chain, she strained to pull its head through the very bow fitting, she was lost in the beauty of a moment that no one would spoil.

<hr width=100% size=1>Think I'll draw some little rabbits on my head, from a distance they might be mistaken for hairs.

 

[Sgeir]

Glancing at the now melting windlass, Lucian struggled to remember the Adriatic anchor weighingi technique.

"Ah yes", he reflected wistfully on happy days in Hvar harbour.

"First, drive the boat forward at full throttle, then press the windlass buttton. Get it up to the bow roller. Then it's just a simple matter of untangling the other boats' anchors".

<hr width=100% size=1>Err...

 

[Evadne]

He glanced around the cockpit. "Where's the disc-cutter?" he mused, as the bow fitting gave way and the anchor shot past his ear towards the receding Bruce.

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[StugeronSteve]

As the breeze began to die away the sea took on an oily calm, broken by the sudden appearance of a little shiny black head, then another, and another, each with large round glassy eyes focussed upon the boat, Oi! watch wot yer doin wiv that fecking boat will yuz, shouted one, yeah yer fecking scared us s***less, called another, yer bunch of gobshites they yelled in union. Our merry crew had unwittingly sailed into the training ground of a Paddy Diving School.

<hr width=100% size=1>Think I'll draw some little rabbits on my head, from a distance they might be mistaken for hairs.