From: rdc@netcom.com (MR. COMMUNIST)
Subject: Re: I just got through ...
Date: Thu, 10 Sep 92 06:58:04 GMT
Organization: Soviet Socialist Society, Incorp.

IN ALT.ROMANCE.CHAT kimmyd@bnr.ca (Kimmy Posey P920) writes:
)
)Eatin ... liftin' ... Eatin' ... Running ... & Eatin' somemore!  Since this
 ^^^^^                 ^^^^^^                   ^^^^^^
)has a tendency to make me feel MY-T frisky, I thought I'd try to fire up a
)new thread.  Anybody ever try creating an interactive Fireside Story?  

Sure I'm game!  How about this:



	Hostess Ding Dongs took the envelope from her coat.  Thirty
dollars.  For that I'll play anyone's girlfriend, Hostess Ding Dongs
thought, though really he's kind of sweet.
	In the bedroom Hostess Ding Dongs pulled at her long black
wig.  It seemed rooted to her scalp: tugging proved futile.  Hostess
Ding Dongs whipped off her sham glasses: the world was a blur.  In the
bathroom Hostess Ding Dongs scoured off her pale makeup: underneath,
her skin was the same color.  Of course the bra and panty pads had
become part of her.
	A few minutes later, Hostess Ding Dongs was reading with
enthusiasm the poetry laboriously studied for her role as his
girlfriend.

-

	"The mask!" Hostess Ding Dongs cried.  "It's stuck!"  Her
eyes, now blue, filled with tears.
	"Pretend you love me," he said, "just for this evening, and
I'll take it off."
	"After you've done this to me?" Hostess Ding Dongs asked.
	"If the mask stays on for another six hours," he said, "the
changes will become permanent.  You'll have become a gorgeous young
blonde, and nobody will believe you're really Mrs. Fields."
	Hostess Ding Dongs wiped her tears.  "Mrs. Fields?  Who's Mrs.
Fields?" Hostess Ding Dongs said.
	"Don't be ridiculous," he said.  "The mask doesn't affect
memory."
	"Who said that it does?" Hostess Ding Dongs said, and was gone
before he could stop her.

-

	The skin of a young woman, slit from forehead to crotch and
down its limbs, floated in the tank.  It slurped towards Double Fudge
Pound Cake Ala Mode and aimed its eye holes at her.  "It desires your
flesh," the Professor told her.
	"No!  Not mine!" Hostess Ding Dongs cried.
	"The symbiosis is pleasant," he said.  "Beauty, intelligence,
personality, adoration from every man -- all yours!"
	Double Fudge Pound Cake Ala Mode crumpled as if fainting, but
rammed her head into the Professor's groin.  He staggered back and
fell, striking his head against the tank.
	The Professor's daughter, home after years abroad, was
considered the most beautiful, charming debutante of the season.

-

	Hostess Ding Dongs looked at him across the dinner table: pity
mixed with contempt.  "You don't even have a wife," Hostess Ding Dongs
said.  "I'm an actress.  Anyway, I'm a lesbian."
	"What about our children?" he asked.
	They pulled off their rubbery disguises.  "We're the
neighbor's kids," said the boy who had played Sally; indeed they were.
They got up noisily and ran out of the back door.
	"Is nothing in my life real?" he asked her.
	"I don't know," Hostess Ding Dongs said, getting up.  Hostess
Ding Dongs began folding up the kitchen appliances.
	He rose, walked over to the kitchen wall, and push.  It fell
over.

-

	Hostess Ding Dongs was pink: strawberry blonde hair with
matching brows and eyelashes, skin the even pink of the painted wall
of a little girl's room, darker nails and lipstick, frilly pink dress.
Her long, slender fingers worked the keyboard at incredible speed.
"Where's Double Fudge Pound Cake Ala Mode?" he asked her.
	Hostess Ding Dongs stopped typing.  "Double Fudge Pound Cake
Ala Mode?" Hostess Ding Dongs asked, voice affectedly cute.
	"My secretary," he said.
	"Oh, they've all been recycled," Hostess Ding Dongs said.
"They pulped them together and molded them into us."
	"That's monstrous!" he said.  "Inhuman!"
	"Managers get recycled today," Hostess Ding Dongs said, and
before he could say anything Hostess Ding Dongs fired the tranquilizer
dart into his neck.


-- 

IVAN IQTOVITCH,		"WORKERS UNITE  OVER IMPERIALIST PIG"
COMMUNIST PARTY,		--IVATOLI STEPHANIVIC,
MUSMAK DEVISION			  BRAVE MARTAR