A great and glorious tale was born during my innovative creative writing class today. It was an in-class activity that our textbook referred to as “Leapfrog”. Here’s how it works. We got into groups to write a collaborative story. The only catch was only one person could write at a time. When the professor gave the cue, we had to switch writers. The time slots weren’t consistent, so at points we would madly get a few words in before handing it off. At the end, everyone read their creations to the class. The result was a bunch of hilarious nonsense that, somehow, seemed like creative genius.
Here is the story I worked on with classmates Meara and Adam. I just read it aloud to my roommate, Katie, and she insisted it needs to be shared with the world.
“Oh my goodness,” he cried one hundred years later. “I have been trapped in this pit for so long, I no longer remember the taste of peanuts!”
Then suddenly, he died. From the peanuts.
We pan over to an empty field, below a forlorn mountain.
There was a cave at the bottom into a lake of lava.
A rabbit stood above the field and cave, majestically adorned with a cape made from the FLAYED scales of the leviathan that dwells in the lava. “Ahoy!” The rabbit was dead. THE PLAGUE HAD CLAIMED ANOTHER.
And no one heard of the terrible beastie again, for he had sated his hunger for impossibility, and died.
Can you tell what parts are mine?