Huh! Stupid alarm clock! Your dreams of sailing down a river of jam on a giant panda are interrupted - as usual - by the braying voice of "Mickey Mickson and his Funky Breakfast Shindig" on Radio 6. As you repeatedly try and fail to smack the top of your clock radio you glance at the red numbers below. It's 7:30. Since you don't have to be out of the house until 8:00, you decide to go back to sleep. With one final swipe you happen to land your fist on the snooze button, roll over and fall asleep again instantly.
You wake up again at noon.
Running for the bus, you pass a shop you'd never noticed before. The sign - which looks surprisingly weathered - reads "Fiona's Fruite Ande Vege" and a withered old lady sits inside knitting.
More than a little curious (not to mention pretty sure you've fired by now anyway) you go inside. The lady smiles sweetly and leaves you to browse her stock.
After finding no sweets, computer games or motorbikes in the shop you decide to leave... but your conscience gets the better of you and, rather than leaving empty handed, you buy the cheapest thing you can find. A tomato, for your lunch... or failing that, to throw at your boss when he gives you the bad news.
As you walk down the street you playfully throw the tomato from hand to hand, for the next half-mile or so at least. It's only when startled by a cat running out in front of you that you accidentally throw the tomato up into the air and fall backwards onto your rear, to the badly-hidden chuckles of the few people to whom you were visible.
The tomato, however, rather than slamming onto the ground and going "squesh" - that's "squesh" - instead drifts slowly towards the pavement and hovers, about a foot from the dirt, as if to make sure that you're alright. As you change from glancing to staring at the floating fruit it suddenly falls the final few inches onto the ground and lies there motionless. Not quite sure whether you just saw what you think you saw, you contemplate your next move.
You decide to take the tomato to Bran Krug, a doctor of floating salad items.
Enter The Bran
"Brian! Brian! Get out here!"
Bran Krug tugs at his door a few times, finally convincing it to let go of its grip on the the 17th layer of paint around its Victorian frame. "Trevor, welcome to my humble abode! It's been a while since I've seen you, my good friend... please, please, come in and take a load off," he implies by grunting and slamming the door in your face. Then again, you never were too good at reading other people.
"Brian, I've got something here you might find interesting," you shout through the letterbox. "It's a tomato, and it can float!"
Bran reappears, opening the door slightly more and grunting slightly less. "A floating tomato?" he repeats. "Why, I haven't seen one of those for years. Are we talking simple inanimate weightlessness or full-blown cognitive multi-directional manouverability?"
"Yep," you reply, sure that you understood the question. Bran doesn't seem to agree.
"Care to demonstrate?"
You see no harm in showing off your new party trick and take your hands out from behind your back, where you'd been hiding the tomato until this point. You hold it between your thumb and forefinger and make eye contact with Bran. He looks on with a mixture of trepidation and amazement. However, when you release the tomato, it neither smashes onto the gravel nor stops a matter of inches above it as before. Instead, with a barely audible swoosh, it nips in through Bran's open door and vanishes.
"We can't let it get away!" Bran calls, already pounding back inside after the tomato and leaving the door wide open. You wander in after him and find him barely 10 steps away, panting slightly and wondering which wing of his huge house to check first.
You decide to leave him to it.
You go home thinking about the tomato. When you get home you feel very tired, so you hop in to bed hoping that he will find the tomato.
You have a nightmare about it all and when you wake up you rush to his surgery wondering if he is still alive.
You walk into his office, to see if he is there, but he is not.
You decide to look for him.
You go to his house. You notice his door is still open from the night before. You enter his home to find out that his house is an absolute mess. You call out his name expecting him to answer. All you here unfortunately, is you own voice echoing through his huge house. You suddenly, hear a faint noise like some one walking in the west wing of the house. You rush to the west wing and find one door slightly open. You draw near to the door. As you close in on the door, you hear the noise geting slightly louder every step.
You decide to call the athorities to search the house.
You quickly grab your phone and raise it so fast it flies out of your hand and lands across the room. You dash over there and can't find it and the noise is getting louder and you're really hungry and- *crack*-you step on your cell phone. Oops. with no other option you go to plan B- running out of the house screaming bloody murder.
As you are running a police car comes and stops right in front of you. The driver asks you, "What seems to be the problem 'ere?
Nobody's written what happens next. How about another random story?