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Day 0This pe
Chatterbox: Pudding's Place
Day 0This pe
Day 0
This person might consider themselves to be an ordinary person, but today the life they have always lived might take a turn for the extraordinary. On May 15, a day like any other, this person picks up the mail. There are the usual ads, a letter from a family member, and- what's this? A letter addressed to the person but with no return address? Curious, this person thinks. Tearing open the envelope, the person reads the letter.
Dear Reader,
If you have received this letter, you have been invited to the greatest ski lodge party ever to occur. We would be very pleased if you would attend. We shall begin on July 15, giving you two months to RSVP. We shall be very sad if you cannot attend. Come, come! Join in our celebration. We have but a few rules:
- In the past, a couple of murderers have seemed to sneak into the lodge and murdered everyone. If you're a murderer, stay away, unless your name is Melody, Red, or BHR.
- It's all fun and games here. No matter what happens, everything shall be silly and fun.
- If you have no idea what I'm going on about, you can read the rules to any of the past ski lodge adventures (the top comment on Pudding's Place should be one). If you do, ignore this and keep reading.
- A new day is usually posted in the morning by me. Every day, a new installment in the story occurs.
- You're very welcome to write your point of view of the day (why most people don't is a mystery to me!) but please wait for me to put the day up first.
- Logic sometimes gets tossed out the window. Nobody needs that stuff!
- I do not pick who lives and dies- my immortal companion, the Sugarbowl, carries your names and I randomly draw them out.
- If you ask me to put a really long, narcissistic, name into the Sugarbowl (*cough cough Melody cough cough*)- Excuse me, I seem to have come down with a bit of a cold. As I was saying- if you do ask me to put such a long name in, I will ignore you and probably tease you about it for the rest of your life. Don't think I won't.
- I tend to make fun of people a lot (*cough cough Melody cough cough*). My goodness, that really is a very persistent cold! Please don't take it personally. Also, I am sure I will mess up someone's gender. Don't take that personally either. I botch personalities and tend to make a general mess of things. Moral of the story: Don't take anything here personally. If I mess with you, it means I like you.
- What a hypocrite- "but a few rules", my foot.
- I always feel like this section is hard to write. Eh, if you don't get things, read another rule page, or ask me questions.
We look forward to your participation. Please come join the show.
-The Omnipotent Narrator
The Sugarbowl is waking up... It is time to choose your own adventure. Will you come join?
submitted by T.O.N.
(May 15, 2014 - 5:35 pm)
(May 15, 2014 - 5:35 pm)
Uh, oh...
(July 31, 2014 - 9:57 am)
Can't wait!
(August 1, 2014 - 4:25 pm)
Hurrah!!! Glad your better TON! We're been missing the ski lodge...
(July 30, 2014 - 10:35 pm)
Day 1
Maple syurp goes up to the mail box and collects the mail, the only mail that is for her is a letter from SAVVY44x and a mysterious letter from a ski lodge.she opens the letter from the ski lodge first. Then she goes to her parents and suggests a winter vacation to the ski lodge. The parents agree. FIVE MONTHS LATER we drive up the slope to the lodge and happy that all these montages of inticapation have ended. They park in the ski lodge to find lots of people in the crowds, but there is one perticular face maple pulls out.... SAVVY! Maple runs up to her best friend and gives her a big hug. Savvy jumps in surprize. They talk for a little bit then maple goes and tries to ski. The first few times she fell but she soon got a hang of it. Maple spent the rest of the day having sooo much fun.
(August 1, 2014 - 7:16 pm)
As it is T.O.N.'s wish, not mine, he prefers if you sign up first by the due date which was July 15th. It's just his way of keeping track of the characters at the ski lodge.
(August 2, 2014 - 8:18 am)
Yea sorry.... Long story; don't listen to any of my posts. I get it. I will just wait for the next one.
(August 2, 2014 - 9:16 am)
YO T.O.N can I join?!?
(August 2, 2014 - 9:06 am)
I'm very sorry, but at this point, sign-ups have been closed for a long while. I can't very well add in other people without potentially giving away the murderer. I'm sorry about that, but it can't be helped.
(August 2, 2014 - 9:59 am)
It's fine. I will just wait for the next one.
(August 2, 2014 - 12:46 pm)
Upon seeing my name in the "Last Reply" bar, your thoughts are most
likely along the lines of, "Huzzah! He's making an update!", "Took him
long enough," or "Oh look, strange thread I clicked upon by accident.
What the heck am I doing here?". But you can pretty easily tell this
isn't a new set of days. Sorry.
To quote the ever eloquent
Queensryche,"Sorry, I'm just...it's starting to hit me like ... uh... a
two-ton heavy thing." This week felt like a large number of overeager
five-year-olds wallumping me with wooden paddles given to them by some
irresponsible, chaos-loving adult. (I deny all charges that I am said
adult.) This week has been a trial, both phsyically, mentally, and, uh,
work-ally? (That's totally a word.) I've been spending the past couple
of days catching up on work and preparing for the trial known as
"sophomore year". "But that's not fair!" you cry. "Red promised us!" You're absolutely correct, Red did promise you, but as I was not entirely all there at the time (reenacting the part of the Embiff party wolverine will do that to you) I claim I'm not bound by whatever nonsense he writes and if he would like to write them, he can grow a pair of corporeal hands and type them up himself. "That's still not fair!" you cry. Tough, I say. I'm the narrator.
Of course, I am highly influenced by the threat of mobs.
Essentially, this last week didn't exist in ski lodge time. It was, if you will excuse my pun, a dead week. By some bizzare logic, July 26 links to August 3 in that world. I'll be back to writing tomorrow, but I'm not writing makeup days. Sorry. So take heart, my old soup spoons, my old elephant tusks, for the ski lodge is *actually!* continuing tomorrow.
(August 2, 2014 - 9:54 am)
Oh yay, we look forward to it! Though don't feel bad. We completely understand. Please don't feel pressured, we're in no hurry. (Despite our differences in World Domination, I will not join a mob against you.)
(August 2, 2014 - 5:24 pm)
Yay! I'm real excited. T.O.N., I love your awesome, hilarious writing and can't wait. Tomorrow will be the best day ever. A new ski lodge and a birthday party. Awesome!
(August 2, 2014 - 6:29 pm)
Thank you, Ellie! I'm glad you enjoy my writing. Did you have a good time at your birthday party?
Captcha says fmin. F minus? I wouldn't relish getting that for a grade.
(August 5, 2014 - 12:22 pm)
Day 13
The first week of August hangs at the very top of summer, the top of the live-long year, like the highest seat of a Ferris wheel when it pauses in its turning. In honor of the event, the garden burst into bloom via a large crop of wildflowers.
S.E.: I am quite positive that wasn’t there yesterday.
Alice: S.E.! Why don’t you pick some flowers for the table? I’m sure we have a vase somewhere...
S.E. had to admit the warmer sun in the garden felt good on her skin. The wildflowers were beautiful, poppies here, lupin there, and many she couldn’t name at all. Almost humming with delight, S.E. bent down to gather a patch of particular beautiful pink blossoms when a shy hand extended down to her. “Here. Wouldn’t this be pretty in your boquet? Go on, smell it.” S.E. reached up and took the papery-white trumpet flower from her fellow skier and friend. She stopped, suddenly suspicious. “Why are you wearing those gloves and that mask?” “I’m very allergic to pollen,” came the reply. “The flowers are too beautiful to stay away from, though.” Smiling in sympathy, S.E. gently held the flower up to her nose and sniffed. She knew no more.
A few minutes later, Alice ran screaming through the lodge.
Alice: S.E.’s fainted in the garden!
The other skiers gathered around.
FQ: There’s no pulse- she’s dead.
Nina: No! It can’t be!
Madeline: She died smiling, at least.
Maggie: I bet those aliens had something to do with this. Snowy garden springs into bloom over night...
Teresa: It’s a trap!
Melody: Unicorns! Prepare to meet your hot pink, bubblegum-scented doom! My sweet voice will soon be the bread that makes the sandwich of Disney’s desires! And this battle shall be the delicious mustard on that bread! The mustard of your doom!
Blue Fairy: Not the bad love songs!
Melody: Yes, the bad love songs! My baby’s got her own way of talking, whenever she says something sweet, and she knows its my world she’s-a-rockin’, though my vocabulary’s imcomplete. I know it may sound confusing, sometimes I wish she’d give it to me straight, but I never feel like I’m losin’ it when I take the time to translate.
Violet: Madam Ellie, would you accept an invitation to bake cookies together?
Ellie: Madam Violet, I would be delighted.
Mag Fan: You may have the right idea here...
Bookbug: Melody, we commend you for your efforts at keeping the unicorns away. We’d prefer to commend you from the inside, though, so ta-ta.
Bounty: Hey, can we have a snowball fight indoors?
Red: Whoa, whoa, whoa, what are you people thinking of doing?
SPF: Oh, that’s perfect! It’s still snowing everywhere but the garden! Let’s run and get some snow!
Watermelon: Yipee! I’m going to beat you all!
Red: Ah, my poor house, I loved you so... and then the little buggers trashed it.
Ivy: Oh, who wants to clean up that? One, two, three-
Alice: Hee-yah!
Ivy: Nose goes!
Red: *sneeze* Did you just throw a bunch of polleny flowers at me??
Alice: Heh, I’m safe this time!
The evening concluded with the ski lodge doing a book club style read-aloud of a novel.
Reed: How about something sci-fi, like Ender’s Game?
Moss: Let’s do a fantasy book!
BHR: No, no, no. Let’s read Anne of Green Gables or another classic!
SPF: That’s too girly. Bleh!
BHR: What did you say? You see, little boy, this is you.
SPF: No, that’s Jem Louise Margaret.
BHR: It’s a metaphor. When you agree to read Anne of Green Gables, you look like this. And when you say “Bleh” *stab!* you look like this. Capiche?
SPF: ... I’ll bring you cookies as well, Miss BHR!
BHR: That’s more like it!
Nina: BHR is indeed a force to be reckoned with.
Rest in peace, S.E. Rest in peace.
(August 3, 2014 - 10:32 am)
Tuck Everlasting!
(August 5, 2014 - 8:48 am)