insert credit forum's ongoing fictional story

hey let's try something fun (i think it would be fun).

let's write an ongoing piece of fiction.

**please only write one sentence at a time.**

i'll start, and let's see if this goes anywhere. have fun!

〜〜〜〜〜〜〜〜〜〜〜〜〜〜〜〜〜〜〜〜〜〜〜〜〜〜〜〜〜

Looking at the unruly tangle of cords behind the television, it was unclear which of them, if any, were safe to touch.

Red, White, Yellow, Coaxial, which one was it I needed to pull again?

“Oh, screw this, I'll just turn the whole circuit breaker off.”

I went down to the basement, where the circuit breaker was, only to be reminded that every available inch of floorspace was taken up by stacks of cardboard boxes.

“Dusty.”

A sneeze forced my eyes closed.

[edited for those darn tenses]

In retrospect, I shouldn‘t have agreed to storing all those boxes here, but I had no way of knowing they’d still be in my basement, all these years later.

Despite promising not to, I had looked through every box shortly after agreeing to store them — but that was years ago, and now other than the one box containing my friend MC Mozzarella’s hat collection, I had only a hazy recollection of what was in the others.

Edit: Apparently there already is an [MC Mozzarella](https://youtu.be/EWE09W55hAA). Someone else can feel free to think of another rapper name that isn’t taken.

Bounding over boxes, I cut a circuitous path toward the ancient switchboard.

That’s when I heard the fourteen words I thought I’d never hear again.

“Hi there, I snuck in through your basement window earlier and I'm bleeding profusely.”

“Would you mind switching the breaker off and back on again?” I asked.

Bleeding sputtered something that I wanted to believe was a laugh and then collapsed into a hamper of my favourite sweaters.

“Now I’ll never get to the wedding on time!” I thought to myself.

“But what if…”, I said aloud, my finger raised in contemplation and my gaze fixed upon the window Bleeding had dragged their now-dead body through.

The story so far:

>!

Looking at the unruly tangle of cords behind the television, it was unclear which of them, if any, were safe to touch. Red, White, Yellow, Coaxial, which one was it I needed to pull again?

>!

“Oh, screw this, I’ll just turn the whole circuit breaker off.”

>!

I went down to the basement, where the circuit breaker was, only to be reminded that every available inch of floorspace was taken up by stacks of cardboard boxes. “Dusty.” A sneeze forced my eyes closed. In retrospect, I shouldn’t have agreed to storing all those boxes here, but I had no way of knowing they’d still be in my basement, all these years later. Despite promising not to, I had looked through every box shortly after agreeing to store them — but that was years ago, and now other than the one box containing my friend MC Mozzarella’s hat collection, I had only a hazy recollection of what was in the others.

>!

Bounding over boxes, I cut a circuitous path toward the ancient switchboard. That’s when I heard the fourteen words I thought I’d never hear again.

>!

“Hi there, I snuck in through your basement window earlier and I’m bleeding profusely.”

>!

“Nice to meet you, Bleeding Profusely,” I replied. “Would you mind switching the breaker off and back on again?” I asked. Bleeding sputtered something that I wanted to believe was a laugh and then collapsed into a hamper of my favourite sweaters.

>!

“Now I’ll never get to the wedding on time!” I thought to myself. “But what if…”, I said aloud, my finger raised in contemplation and my gaze fixed upon the window Bleeding had dragged their now-dead body through. I take a brief moment of reflection, remembering all of the times we, that being myself, Bleeding, MC Mozzarella, and Shadow the Hedgehog, had died while Extreme Refenestrating.

A warm feeling washed over me as I fondly remembered all of the times we, that being myself, Bleeding, MC Mozzarella, and Shadow the Hedgehog, had died while Extreme Refenestrating.

Now able to think rationally after calming down for a moment, I looked at the bloody corpse in front of me, then down at my own noodley arms, and decided I would need some help if I wanted to get Bleeding Profusely's body into the dumpster out back in time to get to the wedding.

Dr. Prentice closed the notebook. She felt the fatigue rise behind her eyes. A short break was all she could allow herself. Every minute away from work felt like dereliction while The Pervert was on the loose. It was the dismal autumn of her 27th year as The Bureau’s chief forensic psychiatrist. She doubted she could endure many more. She peeled the gloves from her hands slowly, then washed them for thirty seconds, then another thirty seconds, and then still thirty more. It wasn’t just that the crude scrawl was written with what the labs called “faeces combined with unidentified bio-matter,” but the text itself exuded such disease that the latex gloves seemed an insufficient barrier. Very insufficient. She stepped out of the evidence room and lit a cigarette. Too exhausted even to smoke, she watched it burned between her fingers. Now, back to work. A fresh pair of insufficient gloves. She opened the obscenely stained notebook and steeled herself.

The Pervert continued:

</s>iN mY hOuSe, ThErE aRe tHrEe HoRsEs<br/> I mArRiEd OnE lAsT wEeK<br/> i MaRrY tHe NeXt ToMoRrOw<br/> ThE lAsT iS fOr SoMeOnE<br/> sPeCiAl..... ToDaY!<br/> pS: gOtChA!!<e>

I left the basement and meandered my way up into the attic, Sherry would be brawny enough to move Mr. Profusely.