Read Me A Story...

Good Morning!

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 suggest going for a pint and forgetting all about it.


"You track it down if you like. I've had my fill of posessed produce. If you ever figure out what was going on let me know. I'm going to the pub for a pint."
"There's no time to explain!" Bran yelled back over his shoulder, "Trust me, we have to catch it! Now after that tomato or we'll never ketchup!"He ran down the hall, flinging open doors and quickly looking over each room as he passed.
"Calm down! It's a tomato!" I reasoned. "It can't open doors. A dog or a cat, or possily even some properly trained ivy, but a tomato could nev.."
"Haven't you figured it out yet? THIS IS NO ORDINARY TOMATO!"(A brief blast of ominous but exciting orchestra music filled the hallway.)
"Well, obviously. I mean it flies, and that's hardly ordinary, but it is, after all, only a tomato. One would think some salt or toast and mayo would provide an adequate defense." I was beginning to realize that I hadn't eaten yet, and was considering continuing pursuit for purely cullinary reasons.
"It's not the tomato. it's the spirit INSIDE the tomato I'm worried about. If it were to get out and into something more dangerous like a pitbull, or a tiger or a teen pop idol..." I chased after him, hoping we wouldn't be too late.

You decide to have a coversation with the tomato.

Conversation with a floating salad item

You track down the tomato, finally meeting it ina dark alley. After calming it down by speaking soothingly, you ask the tomato why it wants to take over the world, or whatever.
"Why do you want to take over the world Tomato?" you ask.
The tomato replies, "People have disrespected me over the years, squishing us, and etaing us, and throwing us. We are seen as nothing more than a red squishy brick to throw at people."
"No, Tomato, we love you, um, tomatoes! You keep us alive with your cold squishy seediness, the seeds of life!"
"I don't believe you."
In one swift motion, the tomato splats against your chest and posesses your shirt!

You decide to run to the exorcist.

Who you gonna call?

You quickly rip off your shirt and run to the nearest telephone in order to call an exorcist. You quickly flick through the Yellow Pages under E but, to your dismay, there aren't any.

"I know!" you think to yourself, "I'll call the Ghostbusters (tm)."

Finding there number you ring them up. A recorded voice is at the other end. It tells you "i'm sorry but this violates copyright laws. If you would like the ghostbusters (tm) then please send a check to our laywers for 5000. Thank you."

Seeing that this isn't the answer, you decide that your going to have to do the exorcism yourself.

"I know what I need, a vaccuum cleaner. They use them in films for removing ghosts. It's obvious!" you think. "Now, I remember having to make one myself in that adventure game I played. Lets see, I'll need a hand dryer, a hose, some pipes, and a battery."

You search around the house for the appropriate items and fix it together. Kitted out with your self-made Ghost-B-Gone Vac MkIII (tm) you go to find the ghost.

You decide to search the basement.

ARGH! Skulls!

You enter the basement and get out your Ghost-B-Gone VacMkIII (tm) and aim ahead of you in a offencive manner.
You then step forward and HOLY COW! HUMAN SKULLS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
After your frightning discovery which freaked you to HELL!!!, you
feel something cold and slimy on your back.
It's the Haunted Tomato!!!
You twist around swith to a defecive usage of your gun and-
What the HELL is that!!!
It's a posessed Zulu-English English-Zulu Dictonary!!!

You decide to attack the dictionary with C++.

C++ Away!!!

Warning: The follwing page may contain an alarming amount of technical jargon!

The dictionary swerves behind you. You flip around and shout GBGVacMkIIITm.FireAt(ZEEZDictonary);. Meanwhile Dr Bran hears you and bursts though the skylight in a Mercerdes Benz! "Am I too late!" says Dr Bran. "No you're right on time!" you say. Together you knock the dictionary unconcious. You interrogate the dictionary and he tells you that the tomato will be at 4114 Maple Street New Pork. You say "Where's new pork?" The dictionary says "In a alternate dimension, you idiot! Take the portal on the sixth floor!". "Thanks" you say as you blow him to smitharenes.

Nobody's written what happens next. How about another random story?