The Legend of Tory Adore 1: "Encounter at Scooper's"


Inspiration hits with a flash, stories written on the go. A rumble of laughter and the tale is heard only in echoes. The wind blows me in a new direction. Whom shall I visit next?

Old Tory Adore may not seem like much now, but let me tell you, back in the day, Tory was a woman to reckon with. When she trod the streets of Fentriss, New Jersey, brother, you could hear people scurryin' away. Her frogskin boots jingled remorselessly as she strode in a buckling way towards the saloon, Scooper's. Shriveled ol' Parsnips Furn was the barkeep back then, slidin' the shandy down the bar like a ruthless antediluvian on the Shuffleboard Deck. Once Tory parted the ancient folds of the door like a bed monster in search of toes, even the player CD unit cantered to a halt and hands of Yahtzee folded in fear.

There was only one who would stand against her: her ex lover and current rival for the title of Editor General of the Maple Rag, the local rag.

Constantine Pips, tough man of town, struck a match against his flinty chin and struck up a conversation with the other. Chin. A many-mandibled man, was Constantine.

He tipped his flagon of mocha back and wiped his arm against his warm mouth.

Time to play.


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Comments (2 so far!)



Splendid nonsense, slapdashmonuments. Splendid indeed.

Not too sure about two "struck"s so close together, but otherwise it reads brilliantly.

  • #899 Posted 7 years ago
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Thank you, Ethel!

I recorded this in a rather painfully scratchy narrative voice and posted it here:

  • #901 Posted 7 years ago
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