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From: Baird Allen <baird.spamblockomatic@pair.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} New Story "All These Hot Stories..." (Baird) (spam-title,  humor?)
Date: Fri, 16 Jun 2000 05:10:03 -0400
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OK, one more go at it. If this story actually makes it to ASSM this time it
is thanks to the help of Rey and Denny for figuring out my trouble getting
through the spam-filters on the new posting setup.

****************************************

Title: "All These Hot Stories Running Naked Through The Park"
Author: Baird Allen <baird@spamblockomatic.pair.com>
1st Post: 13 June 2000

Copyright (c) 2000 by Baird Allen. Please do not archive, repost, or 
otherwise distribute or publish this story. (If I want it reposted, 
I can do it myself. I also maintain my own archive, and neither need 
nor want any other.) Archiving is permitted only in the ASSM archive 
at asstr-mirror.org. All other rights reserved.

****************************************

"Where do you get your stories?"

She watched me intently, seeming to await a serious answer. I 
considered my response carefully. The truth was obviously out of the 
question, but if I gave her the usual brush-off, she might just 
leave. I didn't want that to happen. She was only the fourth fan to 
ever track me down to my real life identity, and the other three had 
all been guys. She most definitely was not a guy.

She sat there on the edge of my bunk, right leg crossed over left 
knee, smiling. Smiling and waiting.

"Umm, well, you know," I ventured. "It's kind of hard to say... I 
just get these ideas sometimes. Sort of like, umm, gifts from the 
muses, I guess."

"Unh-uh." She shook her head. "No muses. I don't believe in that 
kind of thing. Come on, tell me. Please?"

The look she gave me along with that "Please?" hinted strongly at 
amazing rewards that might await an acceptable response. I closed my 
eyes to try and think without the distraction of having her in my 
line of vision.

Ah-ha! An idea...

I moved to sit next to her on the bed, slipped my arm casually 
behind her so that she could lean back against it if she chose. "OK, 
you've got me. It isn't muses at all. Really, almost all of my 
stories come from my own experiences. How would you like to help me 
out with some material for my next story?" I tried a suave grin; at 
least, I hoped I was looking suave, as I actually felt like gagging 
over that last bit of dialogue.

She pushed my arm away and stood up. "I don't think so." She reached 
for her backpack. Oh no, she was leaving...

"Wait, wait!" I stood up in front of her. "I'm really sorry about 
that, I don't know what I was thinking. Really, I, umm, I... I... I 
steal my stories from other writers! Yeah, I just take plots and 
characters and so forth and change 'em just enough so that I can 
hope no one will notice..."

She brushed past me, heading for the door. My brain raced, 
struggling for an idea, then overloaded and locked up like a Win95 
machine running out of system resources. She was leaving!

She stopped at the door and turned back, and I saw tears glimmering 
in her eyes. "I can't believe you won't tell me where you get them," 
she whispered. "I just want to write stories, too."

Click. Click. Reboot!

"OK. I'll show you where I get the stories."

A weak smile replaced her glum look, and she raised a hand to wipe 
away tears. "Really? Oh, I'd be so grateful..."

So I took her to the place where I get my stories. It didn't take us 
long to get there, but I couldn't tell you the way even if I wanted 
to. It isn't that kind of place.

"Here it is," I told her. "The Park."

We stood at the edge of a grassy field, edged with majestic trees 
and clumps of bushes. Downslope from us there was a creek, spanned 
by a wooden bridge. In the middle distance the trees thickened into 
a forest. Everything beyond that was lost in the dim light, a sort 
of glow that might be pre-dawn or early evening or something else 
entirely.

"All right," she said. "This is very nice, a lovely place and all, 
but... where do you get the stories?"

"Down there." I pointed. "See all of those little lights, like 
fireflies? Those are the stories."

She started down the slope, and I followed. As we got closer to 
them, more details were visible.

"Why, they look like little people! Little people running through 
the grass. And... are they naked?"

"Yep. All of these are anyway, all of these sex stories. Dunno what 
other sorts of stories might look like, but this is where I get the 
stuff I post to ASSM."

"What do I do?"

"Just catch one. Hold it up to your ear, and listen."

She started to follow my instructions, but hastily pulled back her 
hand. "Ouch! It burned me!"

"Sorry," I told her. "A lot of these stories are really hot. I guess 
that is what makes them glow. I've found that if I grip them firmly 
I don't notice it as much. I'm not sure why."

She tried again, caught one and lifted it to her ear, but dropped 
the chosen story almost immediately. "Ewww, gross! I could never 
write anything like that! That is so-o-o-o sick!"

"Whoops, I should have warned you. Some of these get awfully 
bizarre. After awhile you kinda get a feeling for which ones might 
be right for you. Umm, try that one." I pointed out a fairly plain 
looking story trotting along nearby.

"No, I don't think so. Too dull. How about... this one!" She bent 
and grabbed a fast one as it buzzed between her feet. As she 
listened to it, her smile came back. "Oh, yes, I can write this! 
This one will do nicely, very nicely!" She turned and started back 
uphill, back the way we had come, still holding the story to her 
ear.

I followed along. "What kind did you get?" I asked.

"Hmm, I guess you'll have to wait and read it when I'm finished." 
This over her shoulder, as she continued walking.

"Maybe I can help you out some, err, some of the physical details, 
and, umm, stuff like that."

She stopped and looked back at me. "No, I don't think so. See, I 
like to read your kind of stuff, but... well, I could never write 
that sort of thing. Too far outside my own experience. I think I'll 
stick to what I know, strictly FF, always and only." She turned away 
and went on uphill.

I watched her go, then went back down to hunt for a story of my own. 
"Strictly FF, always and only," she'd said. Hrmph. Damn good thing 
I had The Park, and wasn't really trying to write from my own 
experience. With days like this, I'd never get anything written.


The End

***************************
Back in September of 1997, around the time I first started posting 
my stories and hanging out in ASSD, Malinov came up with the idea 
of writing stories with titles taken from the subject lines of the 
spams with which we were regularly bombarded. We got a lot of good 
stories from that idea, most of them humorous. This particular 
little spam has tickled me since I first saw it (and posted a 
mention of it to ASSD) during a brief lurk back in December 1999. 
"All These Hot Stories Running Naked Through The Park" - seems 
that some spammer has plugged the term "hot stories" into his
AutoSpam app without any thought as to what subject lines will be
produced (either that or we actually have a spammer with a sense
of humor). When I thought of writing another spam-title story, 
this one was the obvious choice.

I know this story isn't very polished, but I didn't feel like 
putting a whole lot of work into what is essentially an extended 
setup for a single gag. Ha, I guess this one was actually done along 
the lines of another writing exercise that (I think) originated with 
Malinov - the Quick and Dirty Improv, for which the accepted 
procedure was Sit, Write, and Send. That is what I've done here.

Hey, it's the first thing I've finished and posted here in over 20 
months, that oughta count for something, right?

Baird Allen
13 June 2000
******************************
Remove the spamblocker from my Reply address:
baird@spamblockomatic.pair.com
  
More stories at: http://baird.pair.com/docidx.htm  

*******************************

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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