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Virtual Boy

Virtual Boy

TNPer
Me:
Anyway, hi.

I'm going to tell a short story (only two paragraphs). The person who posts after me has to change two things in the story, and then the person who posts after them changes another two things, and so on and so forth. It's like Chinese Whispers but worse.

Jerry took out a pen and wrote his name on his hand. It would be a long day. There were only two things he needed to remember - his name and his address, so he could get back home okay. His mom made sure Jerry got to school but he had to walk home by himself. Sometimes he forgot where he lived, but it had been getting better recently, so he didn't bother writing it on his hand today.
Just when he thought he'd arrived home safely a car pulled up beside Jerry. A woman leaned out of the window and said "Who are you?". Jerry looked at his hand and said "Jerry". The woman replied "This isn't your house Jerry". What was Jerry going to do?
Click to expand...
 
Jerry took out a pen and wrote his name on his hand. It would be a long day. There were only two things he needed to remember - his name and his address, so he could get back home okay. His mom made sure Jerry got to Sri Lanka, but he had to walk home by himself. Sometimes he forgot where he lived, but it had been getting better recently, so he didn't bother writing it on his hand today.
Just when he thought he'd arrived home safely a car pulled up beside Jerry. A woman leaned out of the window and said "What are you?". Jerry looked at his hand and said "Jerry". The woman replied "This isn't your house Jerry". What was Jerry going to do?
 
Jerry took out an emu and wrote his name in the sand. It would be a long day. There were only two things he needed to remember - his name and his address, so he could get back home okay. His mom made sure Jerry got to Sri Lanka, but he had to walk home by himself. Sometimes he forgot where he lived, but it had been getting better recently, so he didn't bother writing it in the sand today.
Just when he thought he'd arrived home safely a car pulled up beside Jerry. A woman leaned out of the window and said "What are you?". Jerry looked at the sand and said "Jerry". The woman replied "This isn't your house Jerry". What was Jerry going to do?
 
Jerry took out an emu and wrote his name in the sand. It would be a wrong day. There were only a brazillion things he needed to remember - his name and his address, so he could get back home okay. His mom made sure Jerry got to Sri Lanka, but he had to walk home by himself. Sometimes he forgot where he lived, but it had been getting better recently, so he didn't bother writing it in the sand today.
Just when he thought he'd arrived home safely a car pulled up beside Jerry. A woman leaned out of the window and said "What are you?". Jerry looked at the sand and said "Jerry". The woman replied "This isn't your house Jerry". What was Jerry going to do?
 
Jerry took out an emu and wrote his name in the sand. It would be a wrong day. There were only a brazillion things he needed to remember - his name and his address, so he could get back home okay. His flatulent horse made sure Jerry got to Sri Lanka, but he had to walk home by himself. Sometimes he forgot where he lived, but it had been getting better recently, so he didn't bother writing it in the sand today.
Just when he thought he'd arrived home safely a car pulled up beside Jerry. A shrinking author leaned out of the window and said "What are you?". Jerry looked at the sand and said "Jerry". The shrinking author replied "This isn't your house Jerry". What was Jerry going to do?
 
Jerry took out an emu and wrote his name in the sand. It would be a wrong day. There were only a brazillion things he needed to remember - his name and his address, so he could get back home okay. His flatulent horse made sure Jerry got to Sri Lanka, but he had to walk home by himself. Sometimes he forgot where he lived, but it had been getting better recently, so he didn't bother writing it in the sand today. Just when he thought he'd arrived home safely a bus pulled up beside Jerry. A shrinking author leaned out of the window and said "What are you?". Jerry looked at the sand and said "Jerry". The shrinking author replied "This isn't your house Jerry". What was the author going to do?
 
Jerry took out an emu and wrote his name in the sand. It would be a wrong day. There were only a brazillion things he needed to remember - his levitating Davros-esque Dalek chair and his address, so he could get back home okay. His flatulent horse made sure Jerry got to Sri Lanka, but he had to walk home by himself. Sometimes he forgot where he lived, but it had been getting better recently, so he didn't bother writing it in the sand today.

Just when he thought he'd arrived home safely a window into n-dimensional p-space pulled up beside Jerry. A shrinking author leaned out of the window and said "What are you?". Jerry looked at the sand and said "Jerry". The shrinking author replied "This isn't your house Jerry". What was the author going to do?
 
Jerry took out an emu and wrote his name in the sand. It would be a wrong day. There were only a brazillion things he needed to remember - his levitating Davros-esque Dalek chair and his Camel, so he could get back home okay. His flatulent horse made sure Jerry got to Sri Lanka, but he had to walk home by himself. Sometimes he forgot where he lived, but it had been getting better recently, so he didn't bother writing it in the sand today.

Just when he thought he'd arrived home safely a window into n-dimensional p-space pulled up beside Jerry. A shrinking author leaned out of the window and said "What are you?". Jerry looked at the sand and said "Jerry". The shrinking author replied "This isn't your planet Jerry". What was the author going to do?
 
Jerry took out an emu and wrote his name in the sand. It would be a wrong day. There were only a brazillion things he needed to remember - his levitating Davros-esque Dalek chair, his purple fuzzy slippers, and his Camel, so he could get back home okay. His flatulent horse made sure Jerry got to Sri Lanka, but he had to walk home by himself. Sometimes he forgot where he lived, but it had been getting better recently, so he didn't bother writing it in the sand today.

Just when he thought he'd arrived home safely a window into n-dimensional p-space pulled up beside Jerry. A shrinking author leaned out of the window and said "What are you?". Jerry looked at the sand and said "Jerry". The shrinking author replied "Mr. Gideon, you're not paying attention." What was the author going to do?
 
Jerry took out an emu and wrote his name in the sand. It would be a wrong day. There were only a brazillion things he needed to remember - his levitating Davros-esque Dalek chair, his purple fuzzy slippers, and his Camel, so he could get back home okay. His flatulent horse made sure Jerry got to Sri Lanka, but he had to walk home by himself. Sometimes he forgot where he lived, but it had been getting better recently, so he didn't bother writing it in the sand yesterday.

Just when he thought he'd arrived home safely a window into n-dimensional p-space pulled up beside Jerry. A shrinking author leaned out of the window and said "What are you?". Jerry looked at the sand and said "Jerry". The shrinking author replied "Mr. Gideon, you're not paying attention." What was the author up to?
 
Jerry took out an emu and wrote his name in the sand. It would be a wrong day. There were only a brazillion things he needed to remember - his levitating Davros-esque Dalek chair, his purple fuzzy slippers, and his Camel, so he could get back home okay. His flatulent horse made sure Jerry got to Sri Lanka, but he had to bounce home by himself. Sometimes he forgot where he lived, but it had been getting better recently, so he didn't bother writing it in the sand tomorrow.

Just when he thought he'd arrived home safely a window into n-dimensional p-space pulled up beside Jerry. A shrinking author leaned out of the window and said "What are you?". Jerry looked at the sand and said "Jerry". The shrinking author replied "Mr. Gideon, you're not paying attention." What was the author up to?
 
Flavor Flav took out an emu and wrote his name in the sand. It would be a wrong day. There were only a brazillion things he needed to remember - his levitating Davros-esque Dalek chair, his purple fuzzy slippers, and his Camel, so he could get back home okay. His flatulent horse made sure Flavor Flav got to Sri Lanka, but he had to bounce home by himself. Sometimes he forgot where he lived, but it had been getting better recently, so he didn't bother writing it in the sand tomorrow.

Just when he thought he'd arrived home safely a window into n-dimensional p-space pulled up beside Flavor Flav. A shrinking author leaned out of the window and signed in international sign language volume B: "What are you?". Flavor Flav looked at the sand and said "Flavor Flav". The shrinking author replied "Mr. Gideon, you're not paying attention." What was the author up to?
 
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