Pimp My Sentence

[Dramaticflare]

Pimp My Sentence!

This round-robin forum game is better demonstrated than explained, but simply put: One person posts a simple sentence, the next person makes that sentence fantastic and posts their own simple sentence.

For Example:

POSTER A:
He drank a shot of vodka.

POSTER B:
Drowning himself is sorrow over his family, lost just that evening in a car crash, he drank shot after shot of vodka until closing time.

Ready? Okay!

First post:
She played the piano.

 

[Canbe4fun]

First post:
She played the piano.[/QUOTE]

Ok I'll play:


The music that was soaring from her heart could be felt throughout the room, as her perfectly arched fingers made love to the keys of her piano...


For the next:
She played the piano.
or
She/he walked along the beach.

c'mon hemmingway...

 

[Dramaticflare]

Through the glittering surf, feeling exalted and warm beneath the golden sun's rays, she walked the beach and left onlookers to question, "did I just see a goddess?"


She was feeling devilish.

 

[Canbe4fun]

She was feeling devilish.

It was the evening she had been waiting for, her skirt shorter then usual, her newly shaved legs so long and sensual, she was feeling devilish...


It was His/her first kiss.

 

[Dramaticflare]

Bathing in the creek, searching in the rocks for crawdads, a young boy bent down to lift up a large stone when a toad jumped and POP! Landed right in his face, mouth to mouth. It was his first kiss.


He dressed up.

 

[respeito]

Bathing in the creek, searching in the rocks for crawdads, a young boy bent down to lift up a large stone when a toad jumped and POP! Landed right in his face, mouth to mouth. It was his first kiss.


He dressed up.

Three pieces of high quality Italian wool clothe his body with silent elegance. Thin, parallel white stripes accent the navy colored cloth. Stylish and dashing, he dressed up for an evening out. He didn't wear the suit; no - the suit wore him.

their eyes met.

 

[gijoe_96]

Three pieces of high quality Italian wool clothe his body with silent elegance. Thin, parallel white stripes accent the navy colored cloth. Stylish, dashing and ready for an evening out, he didn't wear the suit; no - the suit wore him.

their eyes met.

The moment was forever locked in eternity, that one breif moment when everything ceased to exist except for the two of them. He realized that he would forever remember the way the light shone on her face, the wind tousled hair framing her shapley face when their eyes meet for the first time.

Dream come true

 

[Daizie]

Dream come true

It was the moment she had waited for as he got down on one knee and asked her to be his wife. Her dream had come true until the nightmare divorce 6 months later.



She screamed bloody murder..

 

[MikeCasanova]

She screamed bloody murder..

I've no idea if she closed her eyes - the only thing my mind could comprehend at that moment was the fact that my eardrums were about to shatter as her scream pierced through the alleyway.

She left.

 

[Dramaticflare]

As the shining demons descended from the chaos and cracks filling her horizon, as the weeds grew black and their tiny thorns tickled her skin with thousands of wasps, as the sun set in permanency blowing up live a great super nova of hatred, as her nightmares became reality, she laughed and cried and shouted herself raw, "dreams come true," and then the tears began...

He drew his knife.

 

[sexy_hottie_2003]

Deciding he couldn't live without her he readied himself to leave this world the pain too much to bear as the tears ran down his face the memories of their love forever in his mind. As he brought the knife close he heard a voice shout making him turn around.

He looked into her face.

 

[Dramaticflare]

Rodger had an unusual talent, the ability to not look at people but into them. He saw their souls and deepest desires all from eye contact, in an instant, and this left him sad and he rarely looked up the older he got. But then he looked into her face, a special ray of sunshine in his dark and gloomy world, for her soul was finest innocence, a flower of special and rare bloom.

"Gotcha!" They cried out.

 

[Dramaticflare]

No one wants to play?

 

[mighty_young]

Rodger had an unusual talent, the ability to not look at people but into them. He saw their souls and deepest desires all from eye contact, in an instant, and this left him sad and he rarely looked up the older he got. But then he looked into her face, a special ray of sunshine in his dark and gloomy world, for her soul was finest innocence, a flower of special and rare bloom.

"Gotcha!" They cried out.

With rising laughter echoing in their voices, they caught up with and surrounded the unfortunate visitor from Mercury and with great abandon and childlike glee, proceeded to beat him around his heads and body, crying out his name in sharp shrieks, "Gotcha, Gotcha, Gotcha!"


I can't find my lucky spoon.

 

[alwaysthinking1]

I can't find my lucky spoon.[/QUOTE]

It was silver of course. Ever since she was born with it in her mouth she never left it out of her sight, using it for every luxurious meal in her lavish home. She was going to kill her new maid-since she cleared the table after dinner there was no sign of it.

Put your knickers back on.

 

[Dramaticflare]

George was having an odd day, for no one seemed to sit next to him on the bus and no one talked to him at work despite his conveniently located cubicle. He felt avoided, untrusted for some reason. When he asked his friend and coworker what might be up, he replied tartly, "it might help if you put your knickers on. Or anything down there, really."

He ate a fancy meal.

 

[respeito]

George was having an odd day, for no one seemed to sit next to him on the bus and no one talked to him at work despite his conveniently located cubicle. He felt avoided, untrusted for some reason. When he asked his friend and coworker what might be up, he replied tartly, "it might help if you put your knickers on. Or anything down there, really."

He ate a fancy meal.

"Probably has some snotty rich name, like Blake Lockwood, IV." Shantal thought she said silently. Every year for the past few years, it was the same thing: April 19th at precisely 7:00pm, he sat at the table alone near the window overlooking the ocean. He ate a fancy meal, then ordered the restaurant's most expensive dessert...an ice cream sundae with a $1000.00 price tag attached to it.

Shantal couldn't justify spending that kind of money on ice cream; she didn't want to, be she worked this waitress job to put herself through school, and seeing all these rich people come in and be so indulgent just left a bad taste in her mouth.

She just shook her head as she gently placed the edible gold leaf on the sundae.

"Who is it now, Shantal?" Brian, the manager called from behind her.

"Table six. I mean I can barely pay for my books and this guy is buying a thousand dollar sundae."

Brian stepped around the corner to check out who was sitting at table six then placed an arm around Shantal's shoulder. "That's Mr. Henderson. A few years ago, on April 19th, he made reservations here to celebrate his daughters 18th birthday. She was killed by a drunk driver on her way here."

A stabbing pain consumed Shantal's chest. "Oh...."

"Books and covers, Shantal." That was all Brian said before he stepped back into the dining area.

Lifting the tray with the decadent-tasting dessert, Shantal whispered softly, "Happy Birthday."

---

the newspaper headline.