proof that i have a lot of time

a little competition at http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/uk_news/magazine/3759040.stm

wrote a story using 101 words from the last 101 years. Didn't keep with the 150 word limit though. I just wanted to see if I could write something semi-coherent, incorporating every single word. Here goes.


A chronological story.

Bound fast, I couldn't move. My hip whizzo clutched his teddy bear. His egghead tendencies had him engaged in all the real politik and tiddly-om-pom-pom that he could handle.

"No sacred cows, this time. All genes with blues and celeb proteins must go. Cheerio, Bob Dylan. And that includes you, too."

Elsewhere down Civvy street, a U-boat was going into a tailspin. The ceasefire adlibbed between the demobbed pop wizards and the Anti-low hemline league of lumpenproletariats was reaching a crescendo.


It was an avant-garde moment, bordering on the kitsch. The two groups were engaged in a sudden death winner takes all struggle in the Big Apple.

The contest? Sex. In a drive-in. With Mickey Mouse. Fastest one to the rodent's big bagel, wins.

I'll dumb it down for you. It was the 24th century. Pesticide was the new coke. Racism had given way to the spliff wars.The only dunking to be seen on TV, was on the Cheeseburger channel, in between old footage of the 21st century Blitzkrieg and the 23rd century Molotov cocktail club disaster. The biggest snafu was yet to occur though.

Some doctor, pissed off from the DNA analysis results that came into this mobile phone, had bet megabucks that his Wonderbra would remain springy and cool, beneath Big Brother's observations and incessant brainwashing. But fastfood had begun to rule the world, and Generation X was coming out of their cryogenic chambers. So there was a good chance some hippy non-U boogie muncher, would find himself a sexy target for the cruise missiles of the newly emerged cyborgs.

When the awesome display of bossa nova vibes and belligerent peacniks overloaded the proverbial bytes in his miniskirt, the left over acid from his love-in with his It-girl broke the vital microchip he bought at MY online hypermarket.

I was green, ok! Watergate had seriously brought the F-word into the vocabulary, punk. Detox for trekkies was naff-all because trainers with karaoke functions had become the latest in power dressing. My toy boy was inventing his own hip-hop beatbox, that would respond to eye double clicks with an OK, yah. Welcome to your mobile virtual reality. Want a gangsta rappa in ur latte frappa? Do you think I was paying attention if he needed last minute repairs for his vital experiment?

The recovery applet wouldn't launch during my hot-desking. The URL was showing attitude, having it large. Botox spam and kitten heels adverts, were spouting all the ghetto fabulous testimonials of the third wave of dot-commers. Needless to say, I didn't get the job done on time.

A text message had come in through my Google mobile. Bling Bling! 9/11 was NOT created by the Axis of Evil: American Public finally figures it out.

How sweet. Now I had to think up if sexing-up this mad chav over here, would free me from his evil clutches.



Here's the 150 word version I submitted

Pesticide was the new Coke. Racism had given way to spliff wars. The biggest snafu was to come.

-- "No sacred cows. Gene-holders with blues and celeb proteins must go. Cheerio, Bob Dylan. And that includes you, too.”

He had bet megabucks against Big Brother's brainwashing. Bossa nova vibes overloaded the proverbial bytes in his miniskirt; acid residue from his love-in with some It-girl broke the vital microchip he bought at MY online hypermarket.

I was green and distracted! My toy-boy was by the hip-hop beatbox, responding to double clicks with an “OK, yah. Want a gangsta rappa with your latte frappa?”

My recovery applet was having it large. Botox spam were spouting the ghetto fabulous testimonials of the third wave of dot-commers.

Bling Bling! A text message! 9/11 was NOT created by the Axis of Evil: American Public finally figures it out.

Would sexing-up this mad chav, even work?