This is a response to VC 24 Paul 3 ("Beat me, Beat me")...
John ripped the phone from the night stand, "HELLO" he said in frustration. "Hello? Hello!" No one was on the line.
John stumbled around the bed to the food. With the note crumpled in one hand, he gingerly pushed the omlette over with the fork. "Cheese Wiz" he muttered.
Suddenly the alcoholic haze cleared and John remembered. "It's my wedding day!" he shouted to the room. Tossing the note into a corner, he plunged into the shower. "Those rascals" he thought. "What a great bachelor party. What a ridiculus wake-up call! Paul does what he promises. What a character!"
John jumped into the required wedding wear. They had chosen royal blue for their color. The white silk cummerbund contrasted nicely with the crushed velvet tuxedo. In his mind, he could see his beautiful and charming "mouse", as he affectionately called her, walking down the aisle in a brillant white dress with a dark blue train. Soon they would be in wedded bliss. John cleared his throat and practiced the "I will" to the mirror.
The black stretch limo was waiting in front of the hotel. The same snotty waiter held the door open. "Small towns" John thought, "One would think a hotel this size could afford to hire a waiter and a bell captain." John entered the limo and carefully placed the blue and white bouquet of roses on the floor. To John's great surprise, the waiter ran around to the front and climbed into the driver's seat. "See here, my man, are you my chauffeur, too?" The man turned and gave John a great evil grin. Suddenly the doors locked and a partition slid between John and the waiter. John was trapped!
"Nice roses" a sexy voice caressed his ears. John could barely make out the long, feline legs crossed on the seat next to him. He blinked and tried to force his eyes to adjust to the dark car interior. "Too nice for such a 'mousey' little wedding" she purred. "More appropriate for a jellicle ball, don't you agree?"
Paul punched the room number again. His eyes met Bill's. "No good. No one answers. We better get over there!"
"I can't believe she found him. She swore vengeance for the Ivory Tower incident but I thought we had lost her. She must have traced him through his article. I told him to use a pen name. One of his articles was bound to be published!" Paul fumed.
Bill punched the accelerator of his rented Delorean. He flipped open his MacIntosh lap top and handed it to Paul. Paul gently stroked the key board. "Yes, here it is. Based on the Dow Jones, she should be blue now. We've got to hurry before she gets black!"
(Take that, and that! I think Stuart should play with us now! )
[Editor's note: I agree. From now on we are playing story tag. Each person writes an installment and at the end names a fellow Archipelagoan to carry on the struggle. The chosen Archipelagoan is HONOR BOUND to either write the installment or face any punishment devised by the last member to complete an installment. Stuart, the ball is now in your court! ]