(no subject)

[sythyry]

Gacked from dachwuff .  And it should be easier for me, I'm fictional anyways.

If you read this, if your eyes are passing over this right now,(even if we don't speak often or ever) please post a comment with a COMPLETELY MADE UP AND FICTIONAL memory of you and me.

It can be anything you want - good or bad - BUT IT HAS TO BE FAKE.

When you're finished, post this little paragraph in your LJ and see what your friends come up with.  Or, not.

Comments

[mnfiddledragon.livejournal.com]

not meme related, but I really like this icon!

[xolo.livejournal.com]

Having you on my shoulder - tiny grabby claws, scaled body draped like warm supple beadwork, and the quiet rustle and dusty scent of feathers. All the best sensations of birds and snakes, blended together.

[rigelkitty.livejournal.com]

Ah, yes, I remember it well - the day I posted this meme of yours in my own journal...

[chipuni.livejournal.com]

You. Me. A motorcycle. October 2003. You paid me well to drive, to bodyguard, to translate as necessary, and to ask no questions.

The country of Aquilea was a cesspool of crime, drugs, decay, and deviancy.

When we arrived in the capital, San Pulga, the sun was already low in the sky. We parked the motorcycle in front of the only restaurant in the country that would merely liquefy -- rather than gasify -- our insides. Flies gathered around us in storms more impenetrable than the prose of a nineteenth-century novelist.

We ordered the most recognizable things on the menu, tacos de chupacabra, and té de melaleuca. And waited.

The sun had set by the time she joined us at the table. She gave neither pleasantries nor greetings when she saw us, but said in accented English, "Do you have the papers?"

You nodded. "And you, the box?" She nodded. The two of you swapped roughly equal-sized boxes. After she had received the stack, she left.

You were in much better spirits after the swap, drinking three bottles of the local pica del battus before I could convince you to stumble to our hotel: the only one with hammocks, rather than inviting people to sleep on the floor.

At the bus stop the next day, you promised that in five years, you could tell me what you swapped and who she was. So, I do what I couldn't do five years ago...

What WAS that all about?

[the-tall-man.livejournal.com]

There was that time we got smashed in vegas, and woke up together with a jar of honey, three thong-wearing blackjack dealers, and...

...No, it's too painful.

[kensan-oni.livejournal.com]

It's a horrible memory, but remember the time you were swallowed by that Grue? It was horrible, I was sure all ten thousand teeth went through your rib cage, and there was that blood-like drool everywhere! I was crying for hours.

Was I ever surprised to see you come out there, carrying your wife, and giggling like crazy. I tell you, I'm never going spelunking with you again!

[postrodent.livejournal.com]

Remember when Vae sent you to Las Vegas, and my boss had sent me to a seminar on web development there? Out on the balcony, wrecked on rum punch and white crosses, dropping ziploc bags full of mayonnaise onto the courtyard, singing dirty songs in the Nice Language. Good times. *happy sigh*

(Totally biting the_tall_man's style here, sorry about that, but I couldn't resist. ^_^)

[calamitous-cani.livejournal.com]

Only if you promise not to quiver in philosophical terror, given your opinion of my talents...

I do quite clearly recall that it was you with whom I exchanged three ground-nuts and a childlike crayon portrait of Birkozon resembling little more than a collection of hastily drawn lines for a ritual to erase a fact from the memory of everyone alive. Alas, the ritual was far too dangerous and powerful for me, so I traded it, unopened, for a mug of kathia and a breakfast roll.

[dachwuff.livejournal.com]

*talking to some one else*
Hey is that.. That IS! Man that's Sythyry, c'mon you gotta meet this guy he's crazy fun. Like this one time it was me him and this jamacian priest. We were all drinking whiskey in the park one day when the jamacian stands up and announces "FLorida!" So we both look at eachother and with a triumphant cry into the dark we reply "FLORIDA!" All drawn out and extra loud echoing off of the curvy slides and tire swings. So next thing I know we are buying more whisky and driving down to florida in a convertable. But then we start to notice that stuffs getting cold and we are like "What the hell Jamacian?" We called him that because his real name was just too weird and he liked it and called us american fools anyway. So then we swings his half full bottle of whiskey in the air and screams, "Florida-O!" And we blink just as these red lights flash on us. Anyway these lights get our attention you know look back, it's the cops. And i'll be damned if Sythyry didn't grab every bottle of liquor in that car, rip off his own shirt and start making Maltov's. Three of those later and the cop is in flames on the side of the road safely out of his car. but he don't stop he keeps tossing them behind us leaving flaming balls of laughter in the empty desert asphalt. Well long story short, we ended up in oregon, avoided getting shot, the jamacian is now runing a cafe, and trust me You GOTTA meet this guy.

[patcat.livejournal.com]

Hey, remember that one time we took amnesia pills?
'cause I don't, and the photos that have surfaced are kinda worrying.

[scruff.livejournal.com]

Memento putei inter quatuor taxos.

High adventure.

[tracerj.livejournal.com]

So I'm flashing back to when those fascist bastards had their hands on the Quiescent Trans-Aether Capacitor. If you hadn't helped me get it back, we'd probably still be lost in those caves. I know one thing for certain: they've stopped relying on magical firetraps for security! *laughs*

[zhaleskra.livejournal.com]

You remember that one time the duke had made you wear some ridiculous outfit for some reason? I had totally almost beat you in strip diamond chess.

[deor.livejournal.com]

We'll always have Paris.

Hmm...

[ysabetwordsmith.livejournal.com]

So there I was in the market, minding my own business, when a harried-looking Zi Ri popped up next to me. "Spiced chub beetles! I haven't been able to eat those in months," your ~mother~ squealed. "Here, hold this for me!" 'This' turned out to be a scant handful of Zi Ri hatchling with adorably huge eyes.

[petersheil.livejournal.com]

Ah, the day we both fell in that vat of malt whiskey and had to get out five time for comfort breaks before we were eventually rescued ... although that part is quite hazy!

Peace
peter