“How can I help you, ma’am?” asked Carlos Danger.
“Help!” Becky cried. “Glenn Goldforest just ran into my back yard, chased by two NSA agents that weren’t there.” (More)
Midday Matinee is our people watching, people doing and people being feature. Join the Woodland Creatures for an afternoon break.
Welcome back to Tuesday’s Tale, a weekly feature where we collaborate to write a story. Previous Tuesday’s Tales include Le Tour de Cour and Cat Court. We follow the basic rules of the “Yes, And” improvisational game – accept everything written so far as part of the story, and add your own paragraph (or so) where the last addition left off – except you needn’t begin your addition with “Yes, and.” I’ll start the story….
“The NSA agents weren’t there?” Carlos asked, muscles rippling beneath the tank top that exposed the stark but somehow alluring scar on his bulging right bicep.
“Well, you never see the NSA,” Becky said. “But why else would Glenn Goldforest run into my back yard? The NSA had to be chasing him!”
Carlos’ phone buzzed and he held up a finger. “Hold on. I need to check this text.”
“Of course,” Becky said, wondering how her feet were still touching the ground in the exhilarating presence of Carlos Danger, international man of mystery. It said so right in his Twitter profile.
“Ooh,” Carlos said as he typed. “Oh. Baby. Only you. Yes.”
Carlos put the phone in the pocket of his tight jeans. Becky tried not to look at the bulge.
“Who was that?” Becky asked.
“Just someone I met online,” Carlos replied. “So, about Glenn Goldforest?”
“Ahh yes,” Becky said, her voice breathy with excitement. “He ran around the side of the house toward my back yard. But I may have left the back door open. Maybe you should … check inside first?”
Carlos smiled, causing his cheek muscles to dance the Macarena above his perfectly square, devastatingly handsome jaw. “Yes. Maybe I should.”