The Master and Margarita by Mikhail Bulgakov discussion

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Tales of a Fox Trotting Sparrow

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message 1: by Mary (last edited Sep 09, 2012 07:48PM) (new)

Mary Mark's brilliantly funny review (http://www.goodreads.com/review/show/...) gave me and idea for a creative writing excercise. A sort of TM&M group meta-story written in the style of TM&M and using some of the characters and events while adding our own spin. I KNOW we have some witty and talented writers in here :)

I'll set up a separate thread for discussing this thread, so in here it can flow like one long never ending story. So please not chatting in here, do it here: http://www.goodreads.com/topic/show/1....


message 2: by Mark (new)

Mark (markmckeejr) | 37 comments I was skimming the pages of the next Sookie Stackhouse book when the backdoor swung open and in stepped a cat wearing a jacket and cap, but no pants.

I said, "And who might you be? Donald Duck?"

He said, "No, I'm Behemoth, and I'm here to fix your problem."

"I don't have a problem," I said, "save a large cat walking on its hind legs, bustin through the back door."

He laughed. It sounded like a purr. He said, "I need to use your stove."

Moments later flames were shooting from the Kelvinator and the cat, Behemoth was dancing around it singing a song: "He-he-ho, you gave us fo'. We set the stove / on fi-yur." As he sang Behemoth danced round and round the old Kelvinator, slipping through the walls and appearing again as he made a circle.

And then Behemoth's tail caught fire.

He yowled and howled and I said, "HA HA HA," and I stuck my tongue out at the cat who was patting and puffing on his singed tail hairs.

There was a siren outside and the smoke inside was getting pretty thick.

"We best get the hell outta here," I said.

"I'm going to hell," said Behemoth. "This joint is cursed!"

"Yeah, no kidding." I hunkered down and crawled toward the front door.

Before I could get there a fire crew consisting of ten foxtrotting sparrows danced and gambled through the living room, trailing a large fire hose.

"It looks like a big worm," said the lead sparrow. "I want to eat it!"

The foxtrotting sparrows stopped dancing, dropped the fire hose, pulled from behind their backs checkerboard patterned napkins and proceeded to fork (with forks pulled from the inside cuffs of their dancing shoes) heaping spoonfuls of rubber into their cawing beaks.

"Delicious!" they said in unison.


message 3: by Mary (new)

Mary It had just struck twelve midnight and things were in full swing at the dance academy where I worked as an instructor. It had been an especially trying day as I was trying to teach my pupils the cha-cha and they were just not getting it. Seemingly fixated on one particular dance, they stubbornly fumbled and fluttered around me in a disorientated mess.

"We're hungry!" they whined. "We need nourishment"

"Bah! You're weak, all of you! Take five minutes, not a second more!"

I tossed a few leftover stale doughnuts to the floor and all ten of the pupils squeaked and fought, their wings fluttering wildly as they ravaged the scraps of sugared doughnut. I sipped my apricot soda and was distracted by the hiccups it gave me, so that I didn't notice that the room was suddenly empty. I ran to the door, irritated and yelling, just in time to see a flutter of feathers soaring onto the back of a tram car. Where the devil are they going at this hour?

I started walking quickly after the tram car until I saw the mob of feathers fly off the tram and head towards a flaming house. They were pulling a hose and dancing in unison.

"What is this?! I demand to know!"

But they ignored me and rushed to the door. The air was silver and alive, smoke and soot swirling around my head and I was suddenly dizzy. I felt myself falling...falling....and then "OWWW! Watch it!"

I was alert again and had collided with a man who was crawling on all fours from the house. Behind him a sobbing cat followed cursing the man and swatting at him with his large paws.

"What are you doing?" I pulled the cat's ear and he scratched at me viciously.

"Him! It's his fault! I lost my tail!" The cat collapsed into a pile of sobs and I noticed that indeed he was missing his tail and a matted bloody wound was forming on his behind.

"Where are your pants?" I asked him.

"Pants? Pants! Who needs pants at a time like this! Does Donald Duck wear pants?! Does anybody bother him about pants?! No! I lost my tail! Please, madam, will you retrieve it for me?"

I looked towards the house, hesitating.

"No! Don't be stupid", the man said. "Let him get his own tail. The house is on fire!"

So of course I did the opposite of what the man said and entered the house. My pupils were sitting around in a semi circle clutching their bellies and burping.

"What have you done??"

"You wouldn't feed us anything but generic sugar doughnuts. If you had bought us Krispy Kreme, or something, we would never have become so wild with hunger."

Sickened, I turned to walk back outside and noticed that both the cat and the man had disappeared. All that remained was ash and soot dancing in the sky like snow. Behind me I heard the faint tone of low-pitched trumpets and saxophones and somewhere in the distance I heard clock strike once.


message 4: by Mark (last edited Sep 18, 2012 02:38PM) (new)

Mark (markmckeejr) | 37 comments "Yeah, you know, we's just hanging out on da street corna. I had my case out'n front of me and the boys were set up in sangle file, ready to throw the rhythm at these base cats. See, they don't dig us none. Damned man wrote this here book I once read, summin bout some dude what wrote bout this Poncho Pilot - some kinda aviation story, I spose - an that author, he don't like no jazz, either. Say it just a buncha racket. That man must been one a them there comm-u-nists. All I got to say bout that.

"We's playin, right in the middle of Good Booga Moo when all a damn sudden, here come dis guy and his cat, and dat cat was pist! Now don't misunastand me. I ain't talkin bout no cool kat, summin like that. Nah, nah, nah. I's talkin bout this big ole, walkin talkin, pist off lookin cat. What the lay folks call da kitteh. Only dis wadn't no kitteh like I ever seen befo. This here, this like some kitteh that done been born a man. Or born a Satan, the looks of im.

"Listen 'ere. You ever seen them Bugs Bunny cartoonies? You know that craze bastid that whirls hisself around, yellin, screamin, causin general c'motion? Well, this fella and this devil cat looked jest like a overgrownt version of that beast of hades! The devil cat, he say, 'You done caust me to loost my tail, damn you!'

"And looked to me like he was gone shoot sparks right out his eyes at dat man he's all tied up with. The devil cat, he rare back his right paw and bout to knock da fool outta dis silly white man he tangled up with, and then I hear'd this yellin from down a street an I look up and I see this right attractive lady in a black leotard and pink tutu and can-can shoes. She yellin ta beat the ban' and she say, 'Stop! Stop! I've got your tail!' but the devil cat, he no hear.

"He done start in pummeling the white boy wit his furry paw and erytime he smack dat fool's face, I hear this soft wa-thump. I look over, and dere's these blue sparrows doin a can-can above dat white boy's head. And da lady, she come running up and she say, 'Those are my pupils! Why are they so small?'

"An I say, 'Ma'am, I don't make em, I jest plays for em,' and me and the boys, we tune up and go in to a can-can that beat da ban'. And I step forard and take my solo, da sax like liquid gold in my dusky hands. An I play it fast and sassy, like da lady say she like it. An da lady, she step in between da white boy and da devil cat, and they start doin a Hear We Go LoopdeeLye, hands clutched together, swirlin round and round in a drunken circle, makin me dizzy jest watchin em, and I'm about three notes from the end of my solo when a pack of foreign notes makes a ka-thump in ma sax case.

"I stops the boys on that note, ma solo uncomplete, and I say, 'Look dis here. We's rich, boys! But we gotta get da hell outta here. They's folks on the look out for this stuff. I done seen it in the paper, yestadee.

"An we packed up right thar, and we hopped a train to Petersburg.

"An that's how we sittin here talk to ya today, Mista - what'd you see your name wuz again?

"Rat, rat, Mista Ivan. Iz nice to make yo quaintance, Mista Ivan. Say, you dunno where a cat could get a fine apricot soda round here's, ya?


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