Published October 19, 2010
(Tom Adriaenssen/Flickr)
Call it citizen storytelling. Maybe crowd-sourced fiction?
Book nerds and NPR fans converged on Copley Square this weekend for the Boston Book Festival. We asked people who stopped by the WBUR booth to add their own sentence or two to a never-ending story on large sheets of paper. What turned out was a dozen or so vignettes written by You, Our Listeners. Here they are.
Warning: Read at your own risk, as some passages will make your brain hurt. I did light editing. Thanks to intern Nicholas Dynan for his help transcribing.
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I was shown a newspaper article the other day, and asked if I read it, and I replied, “But I get all my news from WBUR!!!” I decided that I couldn’t trust the article because Bill Bryson said people don’t believe surveys … so I hugged Robing Young and asked her opinion. I told her not to hug Robin because Robin is sick. Last year she hugged me and I gave her SWINE FLU!
So we know how dangerous a hug can be. Almost as dangerous as an NPR employee being spotted by their boss at a Jon Stewart rally. Searching for a ray of sunshine to warm my chilled back. So I recalled one of my favorite weather forecasts from Robert. J. Lurtseme (RIP), cloudy with a change of meatballs, tomorrow. There is more to life than worrying about the weather, there’s sipping Dunkin’ Donuts coffee listening to WBUR in the warm sun of a Boston autumn.
The wind was howling, branches were breaking off the tree and power went off. We were entirely alone, and the dark seemed a formidable void for all of us. Everybody had flashlights. Had I not been in my backyard, I may be more scared listening to WBUR.
[pullquote]There were ghosts all around me … ghosts of dead authors … none were smiling![/pullquote]
But there was a sound in the distance. Something bleak and dark, long and lonely, was it coming from the trees, or was it behind the rosebushes? Or, wait, was it merely a figment of my imagination?
Suddenly something jumped out from the darkness and started running around. I got scared and ran into a nearby house — how was I to know it was haunted! There were ghosts all around me … ghosts of dead authors … none were smiling!
I stood shivering, not knowing whether to run back out to the terrors of the night, or stay and face down the grinning spectres around me. Just then, I felt an cold hand on my arm. I awake with Aleister Crowley kindly asking why I was asleep in his bed and handing me a hot cup of hot chocolate. “I thought that the dead couldn’t eat or sleep,” I said, grabbing his hand. “We can do whatever we want,” he responded.
The rain fell in drops the size of minivans in layers as deep as a ball pit at McDonald’s. My feet are dry, but I’m soaked through otherwise. “Oh well,” what’s a little rain when I’m about to approach a key moment in what has been, up to now, a fairly humdrum life. “Of course, it’s sentient rain!” Then the sun came out. And with it, the wind blew me to the smallest booth at the fair! At this smallest booth, there appeared a Carrolesque tiny bottle of who-knows-what. Attached to it was a tag proclaiming, “Watch out for the killer pigeons.”
I was listening to WBUR the other day. It was cold, windy, rainy; I was going nowhere for the rest of the day. The weather made me wish for a fireplace, and a be grateful for my good book. I scanned the large bookcase in front of me but struggled to select something; there were too many options. So I decided to leave it up to fate; heads, I read nonfiction; tails, I read fiction. I went to take a coin out of my pocket, but as I was fumbling, there was a KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK! at the door, causing me to spill my tea and curse the heavens. The sun came out shortly and there afterwards. I hate the sun! I have to disagree; nothing makes me happier than walking down the beautiful streets of Boston on a sunny day. And here I am. I opened the door cautiously and couldn’t believe my luck; it was my favorite author!
Once upon a time, when I was listening to WBUR, I took a photograph of my radio. I thought to myself … “I love WBUR, it has been an important part of my life!” Then, through the window, came Ira Glass. “We need your help.” “I’m ready,” I said. “What do you need?” Jesus loves all! “Wait, who changed the station?” Change is good, it’s what keeps us alive but for now lets change it back because WBUR keeps us informed and our favorite show is Here & Now and our favorite executive producer is Kathleen McKenna.
Once upon a time, on a windy day in Boston, tucked in Copley Square in a corner of the grassy courtyard, I was hoping to meet an interesting new friend who will have lunch with Bigfoot’s mom and engage in a friendly game of squash to get in shape to battle the zombies who infiltrated Z-corp and are trying to take over Burlington, MA.
Henry walked through Copley Square, showing off his Red Sox jacket and happily wagging his tail. He spotted an abandoned funnel cake on the sidewalk across the street and bounded across traffic. He stopped short of an apparatchik truck driven by a Yankees fan. His nose lifted and then after a momentary sniff, he raised his back right leg. I’m sorry, you can’t do that here,” the cop said. “Unless you’re a WBUR dog!” The dog said, “I am an avid listener, so let me pee in peace!
“Stop!” yelled the cop, “That’s my car! And I’m a Browns fan.” “No!” he gasped. “Not a Browns fan!”. . I don’t even remember where the Browns are from. But still. Dude. They’re from Cleveland. Cleveland? Where is that? Jerk! it’s part of the Heartland and cooler than this dump! HA! So then I said to him … you fetch it! Angrily the cop cuffed Henry and took him to jail. THE END.
His mother told him never to enter the woods behind their house. But he did. Step by step, he broke the line and followed the line of the tall maples. The maple trees lead the way down a cold cement paved walkway, revealing a dark, rundown castle. “Mom didn’t want me in a castle? Well, I’ll show her.” … And so the boy started climbing the vines upward toward the small sliver of light. He clung tightly to the vines with his blistered fingers that were used to being worked. He began crumbling the stones away making the entrance into the castle bigger and bigger and the light became brighter and brighter. And suddenly his hero materialized on a silver stallion. … What a dream!!!
[pullquote] Jesus wept … and then Kanye dissed Taylor Swift, which was wicked rude.[/pullquote]
Someone told me to write a sentence and I tried, I really, really tried; I’ve learned there’s nothing harder than producing a hopefully coherent sentence on demand — crazy fools. Unfortunately, 7th proud English class holds slim pickings for muses. I wonder if there is a room filed with muses, just waiting for their opportunity to get out there and INSPIRE. But with none in sight within these four bare walls, filled with long, pale faces, I turned my attention out the window — a frame, an expanse, a possibility. Jesus wept. And Jesus walks — and then Kanye dissed Taylor Swift, which was wicked rude. Out the window I saw what happened to be an insect of some kind — no … a spider.
But I was shocked at what I saw. Standing before me was something I never dreamed I would see. Yes! Tom Ashbrook said that the next show will be about “why we really really really invaded Iraq.” He didn’t tell us what it was, but he did leave a teaser: Sadly, it burst into flames, we may never know… But, from the ashes rose my new, if not temporary, life goal: Learn as much about the war as I could, despite my lack of journalism, personal or investigative skills. “Why do we think we are smart?” I ask myself, caught in the middle of fighting parents and war. After this whole ordeal, I finally realized that none of what I was saying or thinking made sense, so I… picked up my favorite book, “To Kill A Mockingbird,” to see what Atticus Finch would do. They sat down on an Orange Line car headed to JP.
It began with a crackle, coming from the oak tree above her. “Save your old pens and pencils. They are inspirational and might write on their own,” said a mysterious voice. Pat looked all around the tree, but no one was there. And it rained apples from the tree. The apples glistened in the golden light, and on each one was the smallest letter. She picked one up and took a bite and discovered a previously unknown flavor. Everything changed. The apples had turned into books. Real books, not books on Kindle. That name alone reveals the danger — they wish to turn our real books into fuel for so many fires of which they dream. I widened my eyes, amazed that I knew this secret, and wanted to tell everyone. I opened a book and a bright light came from inside and pulled me in — my entire body!
A cartoonist's interpretation of 'President Barney'
Once upon a time I saw a shoe on the ground. It was a magic shoe, with stars and sparkles, but, alas, no shoe laces. It was a very weird shoe because it smelled so bad. I put the shoe on, plugged my nose, and shut my eyes.
Suddenly I felt an inspiration. Perchance, such an aroma, it must be from my long, lost sister. L’air du temps was never her strong suit, but that didn’t stop her. To the contrary, it seemed on every occasion on which she wore it to awaken some inner passion — to listen to the TRUTH, told only on NPR and WBUR. Blessings, she said, I need my ‘BUR fix.
So she turned on her radio, tuned the dial to 90.9 FM — and to her shock and horror, she only heard a faint whisper because not enough people had given during the last many years of fundraising. But at that moment, the other shoe appeared on the ground in front of her, glittering mysteriously.
Under duress, she entered the classroom. Savant was a fourth-grader — liked maps and hiding his name in pictures he’d draw while the rest of the kids tore apart the class. Then a creature came to the class. It was hairy and felt like a cudley bear with fangs as it grind. And with that, it was over. Or was it? … With a bang and a crash, Obama slammed through the door amid cries of “Barney, Barney, Barney!” He couldn’t believe it — didn’t believe it — wanted to believe it? Barney was indeed there, his purple farm looking above a whole posse of dinosaurs — and not the friendly kind!