The Game

The rules of the Game are simple: every once in a while Pengovsky will post a couple of paragraphs of fiction on any chosen subject. The commenters (henceforth the players, and yes, that means YOU!) will then continue the story with as little or as much addition as they see fit.

-Anyone can play the game, regardeless of how many or how few addition he/she makes.

-When a comment is published it becomes a part of the story and must be taken into account by other players when they continue the thread.

-All comments are valid except those which Pengovsky will deem intended to destroy the thread of the story. Such comments will be promptly deleted (if they are not deleted immediately, players can freely ignore them). Pengovsky will notify the players of deletion via comment.

-Any non-story related comment must be preceeded by letters “N.B.” (nota bene).

-When a player would like to end a story, he must start his addition with “Proposed ending:”. The ending is accepted either by other players or by Pengovsky.

So, here it goes:



One thing Sam Drinkalot never quite understood was, where do all the cabs go at night. This part of town sure as hell don’t got no garages, he thought and the Russkies ain’t lettin’ ’em operate nowhere but downtown. But there he was, on the corner of Braun and Fifth and no a single friggin’ cab in sight.

A gang of wiggas was nearing him by, trying to look mortifyingly mean, but at 2.30 AM he was way to tired to play hide and seek, so he took his gun from the holster and put in his overcoat pocket, making sure the kids saw it. They froze for a split second, then scrambled across the street, disappearing in the nearest strip-joint. Jesus, what a town. People don’t even know how to conduct a decent robbery anymore.

Walking. The process of a controlled fall, putting one leg in front and hoping the other one will follow. So far he’s been lucky in that department. True, he did get one in the knees with a baseball bat back in ’92 but the upside was that he got layed with a nurse and most of all he got to meet Lynn. Or maybe was that a downside? A smile crept across his face, either way.

N.B.: Well, let’s see what happens next! 🙂

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Agent provocateur and an occasional scribe.

8 thoughts on “The Game”

  1. Something was amiss. The street felt strange. As if every window was looking at him, waiting for him to make the wrong move. The dumpster. He didn’t remember it being where it was now. But he wasn’t sure. One John Daniel’s too many

    “John Daniel’s?”, the waiter asked him with a puzzled look. “You mean Jack Daniel’s?”. “If you’d known him for as long as I do, you’d call him John, too. Keep the ice”

    Suddenly, lights turned on in a second floor appartement and a split second later shots were fired. A woman screamed and he herad glass breaking as a body fell through the window onto the pavement with a muffled thump. As he pulled out his gun and pieces of glass were still showering the body, a figure appeared from behing a dumpster, sguezzing shots in body on the pavement. If the fall didn’t kill that person, the figure finished the job. The shooter turned and saw Sam with a gun in his hand.

  2. For a short necessary moment they just stood there, checking. But not waiting: “Freeze! This-” The gunman, knowing all there was to know, fired once into the clinging night, then he turned and ran away.

  3. The doors of the apartment building opened and a woman came out, shaking. She was barely able to stand, her arms were limp but she was firmly holding a knife, dripping with blod. In fact, Sam saw as he approached her, she was bloody all over. Blonde, long legs, big tits and a nice rounded ass. He noticed that too.

    “Hey, you okay? Don’t worry, I’m with…” She saw him and pressed herself against the wall, pointing the knife at him. “Get away from me! Get away!” She was the screamer, Sam was sure of it.

    “Hey, take it easy, I’m the good guy. I’m just gonna get my badge, OK?” he said with the most soothing voice possible.

  4. She eyed him with a strange disgust in the corners of her bright, beautiful mouth, then she dropped the knife and covered her eyes with her hands, smearing her face with even more blood.”Watcha lookin’ at!” she snarled at him.”Stop staring or I’ll take your gluey eyes out!” She checked the glistening knife was still there, at her bare feet.

  5. “OK, just relax, I ain’t gonna hurt you. I’m a cop, so…” Her eyes widened and she was about to scream. Sam saw his opportunity and grabbed her, covering her mouth with his hand.

    “Shush now, cool it, will you?” She jerked violently, hopelessly trying to break loose. She was strong but skinny, her hair, usually blonde but now in parts red with blood, streched all the was to the middle of her back. He tightened his grip, pressing his body against hers (and against his training, but he didn’t think she posed any realy danger except to his eardrums).

    “Shut up, for fuck’s sake and start explaining what the hell happened. Or I can call backup and we can go downtown”. She gave him a puzzled look. “OK, we are downtown, but you know what I mean. Fat, horny cops who will think you did it and will make you give blowjobs for keeping you out the female ward. So start talking”.

    As he spoke her eyes widened and her resistance disappeared. She seemed cooperative enough. He removed his hand “And no screaming. Deal?” She nodded.

  6. “Who-“, he started, then all went dark. The darkness enveloped him and wouldn’t let go, the tiny voice inside his head telling him to fucking get up had almost disappeared.
    It hurt. It hurts, goddam-what-?! Something made him open his eyes, first thing he could feel was his face. It was wet and cold.

  7. Weeeel, so far 5000-7000 are thought to be
    under direct shitin’from SOVa-ki, and it is estimated, they know it.

    It is beeing interesting to try see results.

    Can not tell them, much at least. Anybody
    could see anything. SO, nobody does.

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