A post!

[active_apathy]

Yes, yes, a post! And I shall herald my return to daily posts with...

um...

something. I think.

Um...

Ooh! There's an idea.

Just for the fun of it, I'd like to see what happens when my writer-heavy readership takes a stab at telling a story a comment at a time. So, comment to the post, with a story (which is to say, bits thereof). Or multiple stories. And feel free to add extra threads if you want the story or stories to go somewhere else, because that could be fun.

The only rule is this: you're not allowed to reply to your own comments.

Keep in mind that EllJay comments can be fairly big, so this isn't one of those single-sentence things.

[[ETA: Some comments may be screened to make visible as many storycomments as possible. If you take it personally, I'll steal your nose.]]

Comments

[caprinus.livejournal.com]

Blanche cowered behind the fence, biting her nails. This would bankrupt her! Her HMO did not provide pony insurance! Why couldn't Fire just have boozed himself to death? Who let these carcass-chasers know he had cirrhosis?

Ever since the passage of the Universal Animal Rights and Welfare Act, pets have been accorded the right to medical care equal to, if not better, than their human partners, who were legally obligated to ensure their companions did not suffer under the penalty of law... And it was their owners, of course, who were left holding the mounting bills.

Roving gangs of emergency-chasing veterinarians scoured the country for manic-depressive cats, infirm budgies, and ill iguanas, handing out prescriptions and performing on-the-spot surgeries; there was more profit in the care of animals, and fewer malpractice suits.

As Fire's guts emptied onto the makeshift operating table with a wet slurp, Blanche moaned and thought to herself: "If only I had asked Santa for a bicycle..."

She needed a drink herself. She could smell the tang of whiskey coming from Fire's "fire-water" bucket. She remembered the first time she gave the pony a drink, the day both of them began their descent into alcoholism...

[(Anonymous)]

...She had been heartbroken over the sudden and inexplicable loss of all of her hair except one eyebrow, and Fire had been suffering from acute existential angst. They drowned their sorrows together while Fire composed a sonnet on the futility of existence in a sign language composed mainly of ear-twitches, and maudlin Blanche plucked mournfully at her eyebrow.

The flashback ended when she heard one of the men light a cigarette and carelessly toss the match away, in the general direction of Fire's bucket.

[salzara-tirwen.livejournal.com]

^me

[caprinus.livejournal.com]

"This nag is done for", said the smoking man. He poked the assorted entrails with a stick. "We can't save this, multiple organs are failing."

"Shall we call the glue factory?", said another.

"Nothing to do but shoot it, now", said the third and pulled out a Magnum 45. "I mean, we can't just stand around, waiting for it to--"

Fire whinnied spasmodically, and reached out with his hind legs.

"--kick the bucket!", finished the man.

The hooves connected with the rim of the container full of whiskey, which teetered, then fell over, spilling over the still-glowing match.

"WHOOOSH", said the three men's clothes as they ignited.