Note from GG: I've linked this seven-part story. It's interesting; check it out. Just click on the next chapter at bottom right after you open up the full story.

As a young man in a grey t-shirt and blue jeans crossed the deserted street, two bikers rushed past him, almost hitting him. He turned to glare but it was no use, they were already halfway down the road by then. The man returned his attention to his destination, a small patch of dirt about twenty feet into the block. Surrounded on three sides by derelict buildings from the late 18th century, the garden was as good as a sanctuary - hardly visible from the road and set in an area not plagued by traffic.

“Are you sure that's your last?”

“Yuhuh, it's my last one, I promise,” he slurred.

I rolled my eyes.

“Sure, but don't forget that you're getting a ride home from Steve tonight so don't let him drink too much either. I don't want a phone call at 3 a.m. with some cop telling me that you're dead. I won't be happy.”

“Aw sweetie come on, you love you're daddy, right?”

“Course I love you but I'm not sure if I love you enough to haul my ass out of bed at three in the morning to drive down to the hospital and tell them that it is in fact you that's dead. Not like everyone in this goddamn town doesn't know you.”

“Sure, honey. Now why don't you head on home, let old dad take care of himself.”

“Old dad, last time I let you take care of yourself you came home with no eyebrows and a tattoo. No fucking way am I letting you take care of yourself. Do you know how much it costs to for fake eyebrows? A lot.”

“Come on now, it was fun!”

It's a primal fear
But one inestimably deep-seated
I worry that none of my friends
Really likes me
They're all just waiting for me to
Go away.

I'm settling in to dinner life. I get in at 7:00 AM when there's hardly anyone there - just Bob, but he's already eaten by then, I just take his plate and refill his coffee. He always tries to startle me as I emerge from under the counter with a coffee mug. He'll jump at me and go "WAAAZAAHHHH!!" and I have to pretend to be scared for a tip. That first morning hour is the scariest for me, not because of Bob- but because the woman who runs the kitchen (and who owns the place with her husband) is always out front talking to people. Her name is Pearl*. She doesn't like me.

Pearl is about 65, with sparse, poofy, freshly dyed brown hair and a face that has been personified by the smoking of, likely, millions of cigarettes. Bright red lipstick, which wears off by nine, and is never reapplied, and also about the same amount of eye makeup as our other waitress, Aaron... who is about twenty seven.

Professor_Zoom and I challenged each other to write a short story that both began with the sentence "The sea was filled with angry monkeys." and contained the phrase "hairy ocean fruit." We made this challenge on monday, it is now wednesday, so our time has been limited. We have also not read each others stories. I look forward to reading his.

________

So, this was an idea me and secular.mosh.pit. had, where we decided to try and write a short story. There was one main condition: We had to start the story with the sentence "The sea was filled with angry monkeys", and figure out the rest of it from there. The one other requirement was that the phrase "hairy ocean fruit" had to be used at least once in the writing. So, without further ado, here is what I hope you will see as an extremely bizarre piece of writing.

The ocean was filled with angry monkeys. Not just any monkeys, mind you, but angry ones. And you won’t like them when they’re angry. I should know. Pardon me, I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Edward Fox, professional monkey fisherman. Now, when I said “angry monkeys”, I mean it. Normally they’re all docile, just floating peacefully in the waves like hairy ocean fruit, ready to be picked.

Not so when there’s a storm at sea.

I wrote this story a bit over a year ago, and it is one of my favorites. It's the longest piece I've ever completed. There are five chapters, a prologue and a short epilogue. I have now posted the entire story. (GG added: To reach each of the parts in order, open the story and click on the links on the bottom right of each piece.)

Prologue

I woke up to my alarm clock screaming at me. I knocked it off the small table next to my bed, which did little to shut it up. I slowly sat up, grabbed the clock off the floor and punched the “snooze” button. I stood up, brushed my brown hair out of my eyes and stumbled down the hall to the shower.

This is an idea that was suggested by one of our users, Karlie Kauffeld. It's a fun one. The idea is to create an ongoing collaborative story here by using one sentence "borrowed" from someone else's writing on this site and putting it in sequence with the sentences others have "borrowed." You can change the tense or the subject of a sentence you've chosen in order for it to to fit in better.

The aim is to create a story that makes sense. So when you come onto a line that you really like, and you think it works here, snag it. Important: All registered users can EDIT this document. This is what is commonly referred to as a "wiki" or a document that can be edited by the Web community, in this case, registered users.

Someone will have to show the courage of getting us started. ... Karlie?

This is a place to offer ideas on how Young Writers Project can improve its site and its project. We will be having digital experts from around the country looking at this site over the next few weeks. Your comments, suggestions and critiques are extremely important. PLEASE be active on this forum and offer ideas -- no idea is too small or too silly or too outlandish.

The challenge: Create a story using only six words. This is commonly known as the Hemingway Challenge; Ernest Hemingway said he could write a complete short story in six words. His story: "For sale: Baby shoes. Never used." ...
As you can tell, we've had GREAT response. Keep them coming. We soon will be selecting the best for publication. AND we have already selected six of them for a very special on stage project that will happen in December. More later. Add your Six-word Stories as comments below.