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make your own photo essay: a short story contest with no prize

I found a bunch of photo disks in my computer desk tonight and figured I would go through them and start deleting and/or saving the good pictures.

One disk was from Halloween of last year. The three pictures below are of this guy that was walking around our neighborhood that day. No one knew who he really was. All I know is that he freaked me out. He purposefully walked just like Michael Meyers. He didn't talk. He was creepy.

Sometimes I like to take old photos and make up short stories about them. Really short stories, like short-short stories. The word short looks funny if you type it a bunch of times. Sort of like boobies. You should try it.

Anyhow, I thought it would be cool if you all wrote a short description of what's going on in the pictures. Or a short short short (see, it's really funny) story.

And where the hell did everyone go tonight? Am I the only one inside?



I don't have a story, but looking at that first makes the phrase "champagne wishes and caviar dreams" come into my head. I don't know why.

Heil Hitler! No, no....wait, that's not right. Put hands back in pockets. What was it again? Hmmm... Oh yes, vote for Gore!

I'm here, am I not somebody? and I can't make up a story because I can't even look at those pictures, they scare me, seriously.

I don't have a story, but it reminds me of an old Outer Limits, or Twilight zone ep for some reason...

(I've been home allllll day)

Oh, great...ANOTHER Democrat ready to throw his hat into the ring.

Young Michael Myers strolling around scoping out small animals to torture. Even psycho serial killers need to start somewhere.

(I thought he looked just like Michael Myers too just from the photo, even before I read the part about him reminding you of Michael Myers.)

I think it's Christopher Walken. He is the epitome of inexplicable creepiness.

Welcome earthlings! Do not attack, I come in peace. I have taken the form of one of your pop culture heroes to put you at ease.

Er, is anyone listening to me?

It appears my landing coordinates may have been inaccurate. Perhaps I should commandeer this sensible compact vehicle and embark on a search for earth's true cultural leader .

Sounds good to me, Mike. I've got no particular place to go tonight.

Should we tell Tchaikovsky the news?

Ted Myers, Michael's twin, had a hard time finding friends in suburbia. He worked at being friendly, waving to the neighbors's passing cars, always offering a helping hand.

While the neighbors didn't dislike Ted, they never felt the need to invite him by or ask for his help. Some were afraid he'd be just a little too good with a chainsaw, even though it wasn't his movie. Others just found the mask off-putting.

But people tried to be nice and Ted was largely left alone as he power walked through the cul de sac known as middle class America.

If only I had brown eyes...

look over your shoulder : the sub-seasonal christmas decorations staring at the revoltingly usual peculiarity shifting sullenly over the grass (recently cut in preparation for fall). hedges are at neck level, already shaken from the nest of cats leaving clumps of fur in their branches when they passed under them. twigs are snapping beneath the paws of one unnatural feline phenomenon, startling seemingly natural intruder on the other side of the leafy barrier...

turn forward again, the shredded red ribbons of pre-yuletide charm reach out towards you, aided by the wind, the shrubbery's severed limbs still cling to the tangled fur of the city creatures, the small figures who would have reached the other side of the neighborhood by now. they are no longer thinking about the barely mentionable man with the rubber face.

Can you hear me now? goooood.