Bloggolympics Event 3

Okay, so I'm aware that Bloggolympics Event 2 hasn't happened yet, I'm saving that for when I have another incredibly boring desk job where no one can see my computer. We have completed, though, the Bloggolympics Event 3 which was not a competition but rather a collabrative effort from many very excellent bloggers.

And without too much further ado more than necessary any more:

The Story.


Two or three days ago, a bus was motoring along the long straight road in the desert on it's way to the red centre of Australia. Uluru was the ultimate destination, still a couple of days away. Quite strangely the bus was filled with a high ratio of attractive people, who did not know each other, but, quite amazingly knew of each other via the internet. At this
point in the story, that little truth had not been realised by any.

After hours and hours of the flat landscape, Adam found himself no longer interested in looking out the window. He turned to the young lady two seats down and asked "Hey, how are you? Where are you going?".

The young lady stared blankly at Adam. "How are you?" Adam asked again. The lady dropped her head and looked at her feet, embarrassed. "I'm alright." She replied. "So, are you heading to Uluru?" Adam asked. The girl nervously tucked her fringe behind her ear and replied "Yes." An awkward silence fell between the two and Adam begun to regret choosing this nervous girl to alleviate his boredom. Yet, she seems interesting Adam thought. Why was she going Uluru? Who for? Adam could tell she had a story to tell and Adam loved stories.

But lo! Before he could find out any more about this intriguing young woman, he was struck sharply in the side of the head by an apostrophe, which clattered to the floor by his foot. "That's strange," thought Adam. "Who's throwing punctuation around?" It turned out to be two individuals sitting four seats back and on the opposite side of the aisle, who were now watching him and sniggering to themselves like mischievous school children; a strange looking man wearing a Muppet tee-shirt and an American woman who appeared to be quite discontented. "Hey dude," said Adam, not wanting to start anything, but feeling that the rather surreal choice of projectile needed to be addressed, "What's up?" Suddenly, the quiet, shy, reserved young woman Adam had been talking to startled everyone on the bus by standing up, grabbing her blouse, and tearing it open. When she was sure she had everyone's attention (which she surely did), she yelled the following at the top of her lungs:

"I am Queen of the World!" Immediately, the typically genteel Adam hit her in the head for quoting such a horrid movie. He then, because he had to regain genteel status, covered up her exposed chest to keep the muppet man from ogling her too ostensibly. "Well, that was quite entertaining!" the muppet man exclaimed. "I wonder who she is and what possessed her to show her assets to the bus at large?" pondered the disconcerted American. "In my country, you don't show any goods that you're not willing to sell." Adam, still alarmed beyond reason at the horrid movie quote, moved to check on the girl who had so intrigued him. "Thank you for whopping me, the silence on the bus was too much for me to handle, we needed an ice breaker, no matter how atrocious!" Suddenly, a woman with the most amazing jewellery stood and rushed to her side. "Do not thank him for whopping you, give him a good whop of your own! You're allowed to make inane movie references! It's a free
world." The girl could not speak. Though the hit had taken her aback, she was breathless at the beauty of the jewellery the woman was wearing. "Where did you get such an amazing necklace?" "I made it myself." said the young woman proudly. She then shrank from her commanding 5 foot plus height to a mere 2 feet. Before her moan of horror had faded, her features solidified
and her breathing ceased. She had turned into a doll.

The girl was slightly horrified by the doll lying on the floor in front of her, but the jewelry was still life-size and as beautiful as ever. The girl reached down to pick up the doll and she turned it over in her hands several times. She wondered if it was all a cruel joke, planned out by Adam, the muppet man, or even the doll-woman herself, and she waited pensively for
someone to yell, "Gotcha!" She looked around the bus and realized that no one else seemed bothered by the woman's sudden transformation to a doll. In fact, it seemed that no one else had even noticed. As she waited for the next stop, she looked at the jewelry more closely and became mesmerized by its beauty. Each stone was cut and polished to perfection and the shiny
silver setting reflected every ray of sunlight. The bus was slowing down and the girl made a quick decision. Just as the doors opened, the girl grabbed the necklace from the doll's neck and shoved it in her purse. She ran off the bus, leaving the doll behind.

Quick decisions, it is often said, give us time to repent at leisure - or something like that. This case was no exception. Two hurried steps off the bus and the girl ran into a pretty pair of transvestites of the genus so commonly found in small towns along bus routes in outback Australia. 'Ran into' is something of an understatement. She bowled them, and herself,
over. Never had there been such a proliferation of fake boobage and startling jewellery littering the streets [well, not since before the Gay and Lesbian Mardi Gras went broke, anyway]. As a hiccough to her plan to find the nearest ladies, which, in a sense, she had, and privately peruse her recently acquired bauble, she knocked herself out in knocking the
trannies over. By a twist of fortune the second person off the bus was Adam, self-consciously carrying a largish doll, who, in his kind way immediately set out to help the trio but mostly found himself awkwardly picking up fake breasts. The third person off the bus was somewhat more practical and, with a muttered 'dumbarse' in Adam's general direction, went to help the poor inert girl who was looking all modern art on the pavement.

After doing all the pragmatic pulse checking type things she moved the girl into a sitting position and lightly slapped her face. Surprisingly, the girl came to murmuring, 'oh no, not again' and something about petunias. Pragmatic woman (because she quite obviously was) then called out to Adam,'hey you, dumbarse, let go those tits and gimme a hand', which he did.

However, just as Adam was about to go to the aid of the indolent young girl on the sidewalk the doll reclaimed her life force and became all legs and arms shooting out like GoGoGadget. In an instant she was far too heavy for the tenuous Adam. As he stepped backwards to try and regain his footing, his heel landed on one of the silicone breasts and both he and the non-doll went crashing into the gutter. The Muppet man, who had been watching the chaos unfold through the bus window, had seemingly been waiting for this opportunity. The effervescent Adam, was down and out. Muppet man leapt off the bus, clearing all three steps in one flying pirouette. He reached into the side pocket of the dazed Adam's tweed (yes, tweed) jacket, and plucked a
black trapezoid-shaped electronic device from it. "Haha!" he cackled.

Meanwhile, the pretty transvestites had managed to find their feet and were truly affronted by the tacky green colour of the Muppet man's t-shirt. As he straightened up holding the trapezoid and feeling victorious, he was crash tackled back onto the bus in a flurry of feather boas. The Pragmatic woman moved to intervene on the Muppet man's forced make-over leaving the young girl alone. She took her wide-eyed chance and grabbed both the necklace and the trapezoid and sprinted off down the dusty road.

She ran until her legs could no longer carry her and she was so hot she sweated profusely out of her cooch. The sweat ran down her legs, flowing like a tranquil mountain stream towards the handsomely decorated Evian bottling facility at the foot of the mountain. Legs-a-quivering, she took a brief respite on a large boulder protruding from the barren desert sands. She passed the trapezoid and necklace back and forth in her hand, in an attempt to feel their significance. It reminded her of when she would run through the suburban Sydney streets, looking for items that other people had discarded or lost. These trinkets became her treasure and took pride of place on the shelf next to her bed. She would lull herself to sleep every night in that tiny terrace house in Willowdale, staring at the items on her shelf, imagining histories for them all. Sometimes she would see these items in her dream, in the possession of other people. She wondered if the people were the real owners of the items and she had, some how, channelled them or maybe even taken a part of them along with the item. She passed the trapezoid and necklace back and forth in her hand one last time before placed them in her pocket, wiping the sweat from her brow/cooch and heading back down the desert road to her destination. She knew where she had to go.

But where she had to go and where she wanted to go were two very different places, and so far apart....and as she walked she pondered, as one does in stories as such...

To go to where all things were fabulously fruity, Omni was always on sale and life had a comforting familiarity...or to continue down that desert road, into the unknown.

So she stopped...to flip a coin that had amazingly appeared out of nowhere. It flicked up into the air, catching the sunlight as she watched and smiled...then squealed as she forgot to move out of the way and it hit her square on the nose.

Tails.

Except she had actually forgotton to define which place was heads and which was tails. She sighed, one of those big deep sighs that belongs in angst filled soap operas and lined the coin up to flip it again when that familiar jingle filled the air and a cloud of dust rose up along the road.

Could it be?? Well not entirely, because moments like these you always need Minties, but the next best thing was always - Mr Whippy!

In her need for a sugar fix it didn't occur to her that it was perhaps a bit strange to find a Mr Whippy truck on a desert road, not until she had finished her clown face chocolate dipped icecream, complete with a free flake because she smiled nicely at the man.

So she widened her eyes and made the appropriate 'silly me what was I thinking...I should have got a banana milkshake as well' gesture with her hands and ran towards the SAS helicopter that was just touching down over the other side of the road (checking both ways for cars first of course).

Unfortunately in her very literal run-in with the transvestites, a fake breast gone awry had caused her to lose some of her peripheral vision (as they sometimes are known to do), and she didn't see that the Mr. Whippy truck had turned around and was heading right at her. BAM! In one second, she was off her feet, flying through the air until she landed with a thud near the helicopter. She lay motionless. Is this how it would end for her? Death at the hands of a fake boob and a smiling ice cream cone? And with no banana milkshake to speak of? But wait…who was that getting out of the helicopter? No, it couldn't be. She rubbed her eyes and suddenly she was looking up into the face of…

A very plain looking male, you would swear that, if you did not see him with your own eyes, he was completely invisible … "I do apologise, but….. aarrrh what's wrong with your …. Ooooh sorry I don't mean to stare but is your, you know, boob, supposed to look like that … I don't have a great deal of experience with these things, but.. sorry, sorry, sorry I've digressed … you see, I've just hijacked this SAS helicopter and well don't have the foggiest idea how it works".
Could it be that this bumbling fool could be pathetic as he appeared, surly not. With head flicking from side to side between the pretty, albeit somewhat misshapen and well, let's face it apparently doomed girl and the Mr Whippy van with it tempting treats which caused the girls potentially fatal injuries, our antihero lightens the girls load to the tune of one pretty necklace that will surely attract the females of the opposite sex to him (if he were ever to meet any) and an odd looking trapezoid that may well come in handy later. He orders a banana milkshake, which he suddenly felt an overwhelming desire for, from the Mr Whippy van, abandons his stolen SAS chopper and toddles off down the dusty road, in the wrong direction … obviously.

He walks off at an uneven pace, much like the way this story was told. Before his figure disappears he stumbles a few times. Each time it looks like me may fall but something keeps him upright. I know what you're thinking here: God, right? But you're wrong. God doesn't exist in a place like this. It's not that it's harsh and unforgiving. Far from it: God doesn't exist here because it isn't possible. He might exist in a place LIKE this, though. How can I explain it? Don't you hate it when you read a story and the narrator has no idea about what he's saying and the plot is all jagged. You wish that halfway through you could take him back to the store and exchange him for someone like Morgan Freeman. But we're almost at the end so I guess I should finish.

You see, the trapezoid is the key here. The trapezoid links all the different worlds together. There's the world where God exists--your world--and there is this world. While it might be similar, the trapezoid holds the minor differences. I'll pause for a moment because I know--I know because I was in the same position once--that you're asking what the point of all this is. Well, the truth is there is no point. The trapezoid just gets off on power.

Next time you see a trapezoid don't just pass by. Snatch it. Look deep into it. Deep into it's core. You just might see a dusty desert road, a disgarded helicopter, and a bus carrying people to no real destination. They think they know where they're going. But the trapezoid knows the truth. The trapezoid holds their fate. It holds their world; their lives. And who am I? I guess you could say I'm the one who holds the trapezoid.