Author |
Message |
Rhysaurus (Rhysaurus) Username: Rhysaurus
Registered: 01-2010 Posted From: 212.219.233.223
| Posted on Tuesday, April 12, 2011 - 12:07 pm: | |
Anybody fancy doing a silly sort of collaborative story, just for a bit of fun? For a while, I've had the title 'Conan's Nan' floating around in my head; it's clearly a spoof story that wants to be written, but I just don't have time; I have too many other writing tasks to finish. So I wondered if maybe it could be turned into a collaborative effort...? Anyone who wants to add a paragraph or two is free to do so. At the end maybe the entire thing can be edited into a proper short story? It might turn out to be crap, but who knows? Maybe it'll be good... Anyway, shall I go first and write the opening? Here we go... CONAN'S NAN Torches flared murkily on the revels in the pantry, where Conan's Nan kept all the sweets. The same torches also flared on the maltesers and minstrels. In the pantry such foodstuffs were safe from thieving hands, for Conan's Nan had arranged cunning traps all around, ready to snare anyone who dared enter without permission... Over to you -- if you're interested... |
Weber (Weber_gregston) Username: Weber_gregston
Registered: 03-2008 Posted From: 194.176.105.56
| Posted on Tuesday, April 12, 2011 - 12:16 pm: | |
Conan's brother - Cwanker - had found this out to his cost, a hidden blade cutting a slice from his arm as he reached in. further punishment was incurred for bleeding on the sandwiches his nan had prepared for tea. |
Rhysaurus (Rhysaurus) Username: Rhysaurus
Registered: 01-2010 Posted From: 212.219.233.223
| Posted on Tuesday, April 12, 2011 - 12:23 pm: | |
Ha! Thanks Weber... Any more? |
Des (Des) Username: Des
Registered: 09-2010 Posted From: 86.158.236.228
| Posted on Tuesday, April 12, 2011 - 12:54 pm: | |
The most lethal booby-trap, however, Conan's Nan reserved for her daily freshest unleavened bread - or, on Sundays, a scrumptious, knobbled dough-pancake - that she used to mop up not only used curries but spilt jam from sandwiches and untidy smears of Marmite left by brawny freebooters visting the bathroom. |
Joel (Joel) Username: Joel
Registered: 03-2008 Posted From: 217.37.199.45
| Posted on Tuesday, April 12, 2011 - 01:29 pm: | |
Conan's Nan worried about her errant grandson, who bought a bodybuilding magazine from the trading vessel every week but never seemed to grow any muscles. She added All Bran Mak Morn to his breakfast cereal to ensure that he grew up big and strong like the heroes in his comics, but she wasn't betting on it. He spent a lot of time in the harbour chatting with sailors, but she rather doubted that he had any intention of running away to sea. |
Stevie Walsh (Stephenw)
Username: Stephenw
Registered: 03-2009 Posted From: 194.32.31.1
| Posted on Tuesday, April 12, 2011 - 03:34 pm: | |
No, he was too busy spilling semen over the lusty wenches in the Boiled Barnacle. When, suddenly, there was a rap at the door. Unsheathing his rapier Conan sprang from the bed and asked who dared intrude his repose... |
Weber (Weber_gregston) Username: Weber_gregston
Registered: 03-2008 Posted From: 194.176.105.56
| Posted on Tuesday, April 12, 2011 - 04:34 pm: | |
"You've got no clothes on!" yelled his Nan as he opened the door. She stood before him, a gnarled old barbarian woman, half his height but twice his ferocicity and 10 times his vocabulary (she knew nearly 100 words, and knew what at least half of them meant). She was not a person Conan wanted to be on the wrong side of. |
John Llewellyn Probert (John_l_probert) Username: John_l_probert
Registered: 03-2008 Posted From: 86.137.108.144
| Posted on Wednesday, April 13, 2011 - 09:48 am: | |
Although, when Conan put on a long skirt, petticoats and black stockings and danced to the finale of Jacques Offenbach's Orpheus in the Underworld not a soul looked on him unkindly. You see, even Conan's Nan loved Conan's Can-Can |
Weber (Weber_gregston) Username: Weber_gregston
Registered: 03-2008 Posted From: 194.176.105.56
| Posted on Wednesday, April 13, 2011 - 10:53 am: | |
Conan hoped she'd made curry. Not because her curry was any good - it wasn't. It was the side dished he wanted. You see Conan's nan's naan was legendary. |
Weber (Weber_gregston) Username: Weber_gregston
Registered: 03-2008 Posted From: 194.176.105.56
| Posted on Wednesday, April 13, 2011 - 10:57 am: | |
The only person who made better indian bread was Conan's Nan's boyfriend. He'd learned the recipe from his own nan. Conan's Nan's man's nan's naan can beat even Conan's nan's naan. |
Joel (Joel) Username: Joel
Registered: 03-2008 Posted From: 217.37.199.45
| Posted on Wednesday, April 13, 2011 - 01:44 pm: | |
No no no, we're getting derailed into competitive wordplay. And we need to stick to one author per paragraph. Someone please carry on from the first Weber! |
Allybird (Allybird) Username: Allybird
Registered: 03-2008 Posted From: 88.104.130.94
| Posted on Wednesday, April 13, 2011 - 02:55 pm: | |
Legendary indeed. She quickly gave birth during The Battle of the Black River...and then dispatched, with ease, five warriors whilst suckling the babe at her breast. |
Allybird (Allybird) Username: Allybird
Registered: 03-2008 Posted From: 88.104.130.94
| Posted on Wednesday, April 13, 2011 - 02:57 pm: | |
Just getting away from the naan ...to open it up a bit. |
Stephen Theaker (Stephen_theaker)
Username: Stephen_theaker
Registered: 12-2009 Posted From: 92.232.184.206
| Posted on Wednesday, April 13, 2011 - 03:38 pm: | |
That morning a scroll had been delivered to her house by a scrawny boy. She gave him a malteser and sat down to read. It was a message from her old friend, the mother of Bran Mak Morn. She was complaining about her podiatry problems. "What's this?" Conan's Nan had said. "Bran Mak Morn's ma's corns." |