Gord's Wiki Novel

This is a wiki novel that anyone can edit. You'll need to know the secret password. It's 'password'. Don't tell anyone.

It's a compelling story of Vernon "Firefox" Wilson, a crack addicted journalist who decides to leave his humdrum job and become a ninja.

Alternatively, it could be about something good.

I'm not a very good author, so I'll just get you all started. You can all take it from here, ok?

Chapter 1

The incessant clicking noise behind my left shoulder is starting to get to me. I thought today was going to be another boring day at work.

I was right.

What is that stupid clicking?

CLICK . . . CLICK . . . CLICK . . .

My colleague, Wilma is pensively tapping her glass of brandy, staring at me.

"What? What do you want?" I say, slightly annoyed.

Wilma just looks at me. Finally she mumbles "Maybe Santa's not coming to you this year."

What a wacko, I think. She's still stuck on that Santa thing. Can't she ever let go of anything?

I growl back "I don't care. I've got big hoofer-snake shoes."

It's true. They are big. There's a small hole in the left shoe that makes them go "whoot" every time I take a step. I still like them, but give me a week and I'll be annoyed with them too.

Wilma blows me off with a slight wave of her hand. "Whatever. I'm really too cool to care." She takes a swig of her brandy and makes an odd face. "Too strong," she stammers. "Hey, what was that noise?"

"Duh . . . I told you, its my shoe."

"No, can't you hear it? It's a gurgling sound . . . kinda like a cross between a toilet being flushed and a bowling ball being thrown into a tub of whipped cream."

Toilet? Bowling ball? Whipped cream? Who was this woman?

"Well, I really have no idea, but . . ." My snappy comeback was cruelly cut short as a loud CRACK! echoed through the air and the window across the room shattered into a hundred million little pieces. Adrenaline took over and I ducked for cover, looking around the room and trying to figure out WHAT THE HECK WAS GOING ON HERE!!??

'HECK?' I ruminated on the fact that even as I acted instinctively to save my own life I retained the charming ability to think in PG rated terms. The ringing in my ears oscillated between ruptured eardrum and fire alarm in a maddening symphony of bells. They are definitely not my friends.

Where was Wilma? More to the point, where wasn't Wilma? It was the opposite of the famous picture book as Wilma's being had been transformed into a kind of wallpaper.

There I was thinking it was going to be another boring day at work.

I was wrong. My head was swimming with questions, but the noxious fumes that proceeded the blast were making me dizzy and slow. There was a thick dark cloud enveloping me now and my vision was fading quickly, was this dark cloud only smoke from the blast or had some type of gas been released in the room. Then the room started to float away into an abysmal darkness.

From the corner of my eye, I saw a shadowy figure streaking through the smoke. Was that for real? or was it some kind of ninja related plot development? I couldn't tell. But as I collapsed to the floor and lost consciousness, I knew one thing for sure:

A lot of folks who audition for American Idol really can't sing at all.

As I'm sitting there shell shocked, I now have the incessant ringing of William Hung's poor rendition of "She Bangs" in my head. What's going to happen next? Maybe you'll tell me Anna Nicole Smith dropped dead for no reason. Either way, I probably need to get this glass shard removed from my neck...

Chapter 2

I woke up 2 weeks later in a hospital bed with a killer headache. Wilma's dead and I cannot remember if I really saw a ninja. Perhaps it was just a firefighter. I also confirmed that my worst nightmare had, in fact, come true: ANNA NICOLE SMITH IS DEAD! I tried to convince the nurses to put me down for good and they thought I was being cute...but seriously, who wants to live in world without her??? I'm looking out the window, trying to put my situation into perspective, when I hear an annoying murmur coming from outside. Just what I need, another irritating sound penetrating my recently damaged brain.

I slump up in my bed and try to walk. My feet seem to weigh more than Jared before Subway, but I arrive at the window and learn the murmur is a mooooo mur…..it’s a cow.

It has that distinct hospital smell, it looks like a hospital, and I’m pretty sure that was a bed pan (or else I won’t be having Lucky Charms for breakfast here anymore)……but I’m away from the bustle of my city, were all the hospitals in town full? What happened?

Towards the horizon, the sun is setting and I realize I’ve got work tomorrow. I press the call button and have the nurse come in, to my dismay, there’s no skirt.

“So, bein’ a nurse was second choice after Ballerina” I joke.

Bad idea…..I’ve just insulted a man who’s going to momentarily remove an IV needle from my hand, and I’m wearing a robe made of Bounty.

“Fashion school was full, hold still City Boy.”

Maybe I have an attitude, maybe fashion school really was full, but for now I’m just happy to get out of this hospital.

A prescription for Vicodin later, I’m deemed an outpatient.

I pay my cab driver and arrive in my apartment, can’t wait to get a drink, watch some satellite and go to bed. Where’s my dog?

I wake up to my radio alarm playing the song…………

I've decided to stay away from work for a few days while things settle down there. I'm sure they'll have questions for me, but for now it's some JD and vicodin.

As I'm dozing in and out of reality, I hear a knock at my door. I stammer over and look thru the peep-hole. There's no one there...