 | | | Subject: A87741282 - A Tale of Three Valentines
Posted Feb 8, 2012 by  Dmitri Gheorgheni
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 | | Entry: A Tale of Three Valentines - A87741282
Author: Dmitri Gheorgheni - Post Editor, Guide Editor, allergic to self - U1590784
Er, I found GregPius' plot idea, er, inspiring, and, er, Elektra laughed at this, so...
See what you think. 
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| | | Subject: A87741282 - A Tale of Three Valentines
Posted Feb 13, 2012 by minorvogonpoet
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12
 | | I'd like to see a braggart shown to know little of the subject he/she is bragging about. 
So, you have a young man in smart navy jacket and white trousers, sitting in the bar of a sailing club. He's surrounded by girls and telling them that he's sailed in the Mediterranean and the Caribbean.
Then a man sitting near by, in a dirty anorak, gets up and challenges him to a race in one of the club's dinghies.
Our young man goes a bit quiet, but the beauties egg him on. He steps gingerly into the dinghy, hoists the sails and off they go. He manages all right on the outward lap. Then he tries to tack, swings the tiller over, but the wind catches in the sails and he capsizes.
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| | | Subject: A87741282 - A Tale of Three Valentines
Posted Feb 13, 2012 by Dmitri Gheorgheni
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13
| | Yes, that's a good technique. 
On the positive side of that, Elektra found a fascinating article yesterday. It was by filmmaker Michael Moore. He was explaining how he met the man who gave him a start in documentary-making. His name is Kevin Rafferty, and he made the film 'The Atomic Cafe'.
When Moore first met him, he thought Rafferty must be broke - he dressed badly, for one thing. Moore appreciated the expert help and advice he got, including help shooting his first film, 'Roger and Me'.
It was only after Moore's film was a success that he found out his friend was the nephew of then-President George HW Bush (first cousin to George W). Harvard graduate and all, but he did not share his relatives' politics.  Moore tells the story well.
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| | | Subject: A87741282 - A Tale of Three Valentines
Posted Feb 14, 2012 by Florida Sailor Visit my Club at A87794248
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16
| | This is a true story, at least as I report it, I do not know if I was listening to a fantasy. It is someone else's story, so I would not consider publishing it under my name. But I will share as it seems to fit here.
Several years ago, a decade ore more, I was attending a college night course in computer programming and I had a couple hours to kill between work and class time. I stopped by a bar near the school for some snack food and a beer or two. The place was almost empty, but at the bar one man began a story to a small group sitting there, about a couple they all seemed to know, about their recent trip to New York City.
The wife was a timid woman who had heard stories about crime in the big city and had demanded extreme caution in all their activities. After a week of vacation they were having their last supper in the dining-room of their own hotel. As I recall it was the Waldorf-Astoria, one of the most exclusive hotels in the city. While they were waiting for their food the wife remembered there was something in her purse she wanted - she had left it upstairs in the room!
After a week in the city they had not seen any hint of the terror she feared. Surely there could be no trouble to be found in the hotel. She went alone up to their room and recovered her purse. She pressed the call button for the elevator. The elevator arrived at her floor and the doors opened!
Inside the only occupants were three very large Black men! She looked around and she was alone! In an instant she decided that if she showed any fear her fate would be sealed. She slunk into a corner the elevator cab when a deep voice behind said, in a loud voice 'Hit the floor lady!'
She screamed, threw her bag into the air, and sobbed 'Take my money, take my credit cards, there's a little jewellery too. Take it all, just please don't hurt me.'
The voice chuckled a little ' I just meant hit the button for the floor, you were standing in front of the buttons.'
They helped her gather her scattered belongings and she retuned safely to the dinning-room and finished her dinner with her husband.
Early the next morning they carried their luggage down to the lobby. The husband turned in their room-key and asked for the bill,
'There is no bill', the clerk replied, 'Have safe trip, goodbye.'
'That's impossible!' said the husband, 'We have had a room for a full week, we have ordered room service! Just last night we had a full diner here and charged it to our room number. We must owe you over a thousand dollars.'
'Oh wait,' the clerk pulled an envelope out of the room slot, 'there is a note.' He handed it to them.
'Thanks for the best laugh I've had in many years!'
It was signed 'Eddie Murphy'
F S
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| | | Subject: A87741282 - A Tale of Three Valentines
Posted Feb 14, 2012 by Dmitri Gheorgheni
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19
| | That would be a good idea. Creative listening, there.
Over the years, a lot of people have told me stories - some of them without telling me their names, on trains and planes and busses. Of course, I don't know if they embellished, and I don't much care.
The stories sometimes end up somewhere in something I write. Or they inform what I imagine about a scene or a place. We owe a lot to the people who tell us their stories, I think. I also think that we have a responsibility to pass them on if we can.
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| | | Subject: A87741282 - A Tale of Three Valentines
Posted Feb 14, 2012 by cactuscafe
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20
| | Great story FS!
And now I am considering MVP's Lady Turpingon Howard.  .
I'm sneaking in here, always lured by stories, and interested in the challenge of the comeuppance, even though these days I could never write it. grrr but doesn't stop me thinking about it, how addictive you writers are ..
in the story in my head, grrrrr, the comeuppance is psychological, not like in dreams, or even delirium, but in what??? grrrr go away story-in-head ...
thanks for the read, and the consequent thoughts, and sorry for sneaking in ....
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