I stole the following from Charlie:
If you read this… if your eyes are passing over this right now, (even if we don’t speak often or don’t really know each other)….. Your job, your mission, nay – even your new goal in life is to post a comment with a COMPLETELY MADE UP AND FICTIONAL memory of you and me.
It can be anything you want – good or bad. It can be about that time when I spent the night with you in the South American jail because you got drunk and tried to pick up on a cop…. or it could be about that night that felt like that time half a forever ago when you and I hopped on railroad cars and rode clear across Kentucky… BUT IT HAS TO BE FAKE.
When you’re finished, post this little paragraph on your blog and be surprised (or mortified) about what people DON’T ACTUALLY remember about you!
Post away – and be creative!
I’ve amused myself by what I wrote in Charlie’s comments in response to this-you should go read it and stay and read his other posts. He’s very funny. Of course, I actually AM going to Austin in March (did I tell y’all that? I’m going to the AWP conference with the fiction writing department-hotel and airfare paid?), but I doubt I’ll be meeting up and picking up boys with Charlie, although I’m sure he and I would have a blast together.
Anyway, please do this. It’ll be funny. Go wild. Push your imagination. Exaggerate. Lie. Whatever.
I’ve seen this done before, maybe on the Queen of Ass, but I haven’t yet done it myself. And yes, it kind of gets me out of having to post something of substance today, doesn’t it? I’ve just handed the reigns over to you people.
Update: Oh, you? (You know who you are). It is definitely not a good idea to try to write about that thing (you know, that thing) that happened a couple of summers ago, okay? I’m pretty sure we’re still wanted in three states on that thing, and even though I know you’re dying to tell the story (as am I), it would decidedly NOT be a good idea to write about it here, pretending it’s made up, because it would be tantamount to admitting guilt, and frankly, I’ve had some problems with the, shall we say, burial thing in the back yard. Damn dogs.
One time me, a guy that I know, and Viki went to the mall. We were having a blast running around and trying to find a fat girl to cook us tacos. Well, when we were walking out my friend was staring at Viki’s ass so hard that he walked right in the automatic door and broke it. I immediately took the fat girl’s mall pretzel and ran like hell.
Yeah, and I was laughing so hard about the broken door that I couldn’t help the guy. He was bleeding like hell from all these cuts, and he died on the ground while I was laughing. It was pretty awful. After you left, the fat girl started bitching at me about her pretzel and tried to get me to buy her another one. I told her to go to hell, and then sliced her across the cheek with a piece of glass.
When you sliced her Cherry Pop-Tarts fell out of the cut, you forgot that part. You also forgot about all of the Mormons that ran after us throwing Payless Shoe Boxes at us as we were running away to our Ford Taurus with 2 car seats in the back.
Stupid mormons.
I see you still have a problem with Mormons, Viki. I thought you would have gotten over it by now after all these years. I know the incident is still fresh in my mind but I haven’t pickled it as much as you have since that horrific night. I guess all the drinking, therapy sessions, hypnotic treatments and tranquilizers will ever erase the images burned in our brains of THE NIGHT THE BICYCLE RIDING MORMON VIRGINS WENT WILD…
Oh, Tony! We swore we would never speak about that night! Why, after all this time, would you bring it up again?