This is a game I used to play on another site....
The object is to tell a story,each person adding their own lines to the story.lol..Sometimes it gets pretty crazy.
I will start the story:
New york city 1987.....O'Shaunnesey had been on the police department for seven years,and still walked the beat.Folks loved him because he was a kind man,always a hello,how are you to everyone.
He would play marbles with the kids.One day while playing marbles,O'Shaunnesey................................
Now it's your turn to add to the story:::::::
HAVE FUN !!
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Comments: 51
hell,it sounded good to me,lmao
"Well, your playing marbles' she screamed
"Do you love me O'Shaunnessay?" asked the young boy, in a weak voice.
Seeing blood on the young boy's shirt, he quickly drew his gun, pulled out his radio and began running toward the small office building where the shots first rang out.
"OH SHUT UP," yelled O'Shaunassee. "You never seem to see anything," he continued.
Within minutes, there were police cars squealing around every corner, and from every direction. Soon officers lined the street, each with weapons drawn.
With a gun now pointing directly at his face, he stood motionless.
What a shame the broad was on the wrong side of a gun.
For the first time in his career, O'Shanassee saw a look of compassion on the criminal's face.
"Not looking for you," O'Shaunessy said, "Did your people shoot those kids out there, or was it the Pizzatorelli gang?
(Gee, I can be funny)
"Cheating the kids again, are we O'Shanasse?" asked one of the reporters.
Placing his gun back into it's holster, he winked and head out of the alley.
Turning, O'Shanasse walked away and said nothing.
"IDIOT," shouter the reporter.
"Here's an "idiot" for you, yelled O'Shanasse, as he held up his middle finger.
Thanks for playing.
Ann
"Better get off your dead butt and find that damn killer," yelled the reporter.
Unable to speak, O'Shanasse waved his hand, as if to say 'PLEASE, please don't bother me right now."
THE END?
And that's just how it get started.
Wahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!
"Mr. O'Shaunnesey," the boy said, taking his last breath,"tell my mom I love her...."
A single tear rolled down O'Shaunnesey's face.
The boy sat up, letting out the breath he'd been holding for what seemed like forever. He wiped some of the blood away with his shirttail and removed the near-empty blood packet from beneath his shirt and tossed it into the street.
Hands in pockets, he sauntered over to Cheney who was huddled against a brick wall muttering about his ill treatment by the press corps.
"I'll have me pay, now sir" the boy said taking a small, blood-smeared hand out of his pocket. He held it out, palm up, to Cheney, and wiggled the fingers.
Cheney stared--his icy blue eyes focused on the outstretched hand.