Story #-2

Yes, boys and girls, this is where it all began; Story number negative two!  It was the summer of 1993 and I was visiting my friend Lisa at the University of Virginia.  She actually had to do work for summer school classes (what a nerd!), so I was playing around with her email account and decided to write to her friend (well, my friend, but she was Lisa’s friend first), Roxie.  There, on that sultry June day, was the first time I wrote Roxie a story.  This planted the seed that would eventually become the Story of the Week Club.  Presented here for your reading pleasure is that original email in its entirety, with brand spanking new art by Deron Decesare!

THE STORY THAT STARTED IT ALL

Art by Deron Decesare

Subject: poop
Date: Wed, 30 Jun 93 16:18:01

Dear Roxie,

Hey ho, It’s Josh.  What a surprise to get a message from me, huh?

In case you were wondering…  Well, I don’t really care if you were wondering about anything, it just sounded like a good way to start a sentence.  Anyway, I’m here visiting Lisa at summer school, and she’s here doing some stupid ed school crap, so she said I could write to people to pass the time.  Don’t tell anyone, but I wrote to you first.  Don’t you feel extrordinarily special.  Did I spell that right?  I never could figure out how to spell “feel.”

So, anyhoo, How’s life been? Isn’t it stupid when people ask questions like that in a one sided communication like this? Two questions in a row; what do you think about that? Oh, wait, now that makes three, doesn’t it? Oh no, was that my fourth question in a row? Will it ever stop? Am I an idiot? Good question. seven.

So yesterday, I mean last week, I was walking down the street and a big elephant stepped out from an alley and offered me some dope. I figured, “hey, there’s something you don’t see every day,” so I accepted. But it actually wasn’t dope, it was oregano.

We’re going to be here a really long time. That’s what Lisa just told me. Maybe ‘til five, isn’t that a long time. Yes, it is. Uh oh, I’m getting rhetorical..

So, did I ever tell you about the time when I was five and me my good friend Sam decided to build a rocket-ship out of old potatoes-au gratin boxes? Funny thing is, it worked. We flew to a planet called Rotary fan (it’s in another galaxy; you won’t have heard of it). When we landed we hopped out of the ship. Luckily the atmosphere was just like earth’s and we didn’t die. That would have sucked.

So we walked around the planet awhile (it was a small planet, you could walk around it in about twenty minutes), and then we decided that we were bored. Just as we were about to leave, another rocket-ship landed. The crappy thing was that it landed right on our ship and mooshed it. Sam started to cry ‘cuz he was a big sissy, so I smacked him around a little. Then the creatures emerged from their ship. They looked like big lizards with mickey mouse ears on, and they were all wearing “I’m with Stupid” shirts (it was the seventies, remember). They were all carrying big titanium lined rifles that shot frozen peas. When they saw us, they went into attack stance, and then they all ran back into the ship. After a minute or two, we saw them looking out the windows, so Sam threw a rock at them. Well, they got pretty pissed off and fired a deadly barrage of icy vegetables at us. As soon as we realized that frozen peas didn’t really hurt that much, we rushed the ship. We got inside and took over the bridge. Yes, it was just that easy. We walked in and I said, “Hey everybody, Me and Sam are taking over the bridge, okay?” and they all went “Aw, man.”

So, Sam and I commandeered the ship and flew it back to the good old milky way galaxy. By accident we landed on Mars, though, instead of earth, and when Sam got out of the ship he imploded. I thought it was kind of a drag, but all the lizard-dudes thought that was really cool, so they all did it too. I guess they were pretty dumb.

Anyway, so then I flew back to earth.

THE END

P.S. Everything in that story is true, except Sam never cried. I was just trying to make myself look better.

P.P.S. Well, at any rate, I did have a friend named Sam when I was five.

P.P.S. Did I ever tell you about the time I was twelve, and then I turned thirteen? If I was Jewish I would have had a Bar-mitzvah.