THE WAR OF THE WORDS

THE WAR OF THE WORDS the sign starkly proclaims.

Folks flock out to see it, bringing their trash bags full of stale popcorn and their Jimmy's Choice Off-Brand Cola, still warm from the shelf. They pay $2 or $5 per carload depending on the decade and they back their utility vans in so they can throw open the doors and take in the towering screen from sleeping bags and blankets on the hard metal floor.

Folks from the mid eighties tune their radio stations in. Folks from before that clip that clunky speaker onto the window.

The movie begins.

Two professors, armed to the teeth with books and notes, each sitting at their desks on opposite sides of a room. Cue the music, cut the lights, call the kids back from that sticky playground at the base of the screen.

A baby cries. A soda can pops open.

Midway through, when no tripods or death rays or Martians make their expected appearance, folks figure out that it really wasn't a typo after all.

Orson Welles laughs from the grave. Herbert George Wells grins and says, "Good one, Rosebud."

END

Okay, you see how it's played.  Now it's your turn.  I'll give you the title, you do your approximately 200 word blip.  We'll stay open until NEXT Friday (6/19).  Judges yet to be announced.  Three prize categories -- BEST STORY, FUNNIEST, and MOST LIKELY TO BE JAY LAKE IN A BRILLIANT DISGUISE (i.e. in the style of.).  Each winner gets an ARC of CANTICLE.  Post in comments.  All stories will be judged against all categories.  Keep it reasonably (no, just reasonably) clean or I will delete you; my nieces read this blog.  If you must go into off-road RaunchFest send as a private message or in the body of an email and note that you did so in a comment.  But keep in mind that if you offend your judges you may diminish your chances for success.  Me, I LOVE raunch.

Are you ready for your title?

Drum roll please.

THE TIM MACHINE

Ready, set, go!