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I will start and you guys follow to make up the DF book.


It was a beautiful Decembers day in Dubai when.............................

seeing Bedouin fires at night...

FD did you skip a page? You went from day to night. Something must have happened during the day???

* good point, new start *


...seeing the oil fields at first light...

I was Suddenly overcome by this dreadful feeling, a sensation of impending doom, the flame burning on the flarestacks were unusually bright that morning, in the distance, spewing their poisonous fumes into the unspoiled clear blue sky, with the black plumes of soot spiralling towards the heavens and collecting in random pools of translucent grey clouds wandering off into the distance, it was something L S Lowry would have painted, I thought, instead of the dark satanic mill stacks in his native Manchester of a generation ago?

I had no idea what it was, why I was filled with this apprehension, whether I forgot to do something, something that someone was relying upon or whether I was anticipating something as a consequence of something I had done? I didn’t know what it was, I just had this terrible foreboding feeling. I decided to go for a walk, to get some fresh air and try to clear my head of the confusion and apprehension that was occupying my every thought, I took a shower and changed into suitable attire for the weather and just before setting off I looked in on Dubai Forums to see what developments there were since the night before and there it was, like an epiphany, staring me full in the face, was…

Something tells me this DF book is headed for the Bulwer-Lytton award in literature!
This is where WWW stands for Wretched Writers Welcome!
Here is an example of the sort of writing that will get us there:

"It was a dark and stormy night; the rain fell in torrents--except at occasional intervals, when it was checked by a violent gust of wind which swept up the streets (for it is in London that our scene lies), rattling along the housetops, and fiercely agitating the scanty flame of the lamps that struggled against the darkness."

--Edward George Bulwer-Lytton, Paul Clifford (1830)

Well, we have an original theme from Drew, live on-line proof reading and editing from Bora and literary criticism from Zonker, all we need now is more content!

Let's try again".................

In that summer the old school chums Zonker, BM, Bora, Chocs, Dillon FD and their favourite camel VPL who had been friends for many years decided that ........................

.............curiosity had gotten the best of all, wondering what had transpired during the long absence and it was truly time for that all-forgotten (or would it be dreaded?) meet up, in spite of a few clashes over time via DF. The public announcement had been made on DF and the slowly the responses started to come in. First to respond was.............

…VPL, but before the meet, she had to resolve the severe haemorrhoid problem which necessitated the need to dress in underwear that gave the poor old soul her nickname, (Visible Panty Line) so off she went, with her friends to…

the mall to see if she could find an undergarment that would remedy the situation. When they got to the mall her friend was walking behind her and something caught her eye. It was the white polyester pants, a size or two too small, that VPL was wearing and she could see VPL's granny pants through them. She looked a bit closer and to make matters worse it appeard that VPL's hemorroid was inflamed and it looked as if VPL had made a dodo in her pants!!! They got to the lingerie shop and after looking around VPL found............................

....... a dark-skinned Indian following them wherever she went! It looked as if he was the store employee entrusted with the onerous task of catching kleptomaniacs in the act. Did they not have cameras for that purpose these days? Now more than anything, VPL prided herself on two things: her skin color (White), and being born in a certain trailer park in a Western country (more about that later). The immediate prospect taxing her not so ample supply of grey matter was this: how to get rid of the Indian following her?
Her gastro-intestinal tract came to her rescue. It was the pizza that she had had last night from Pizza Hut. By now the gas from putrefying cheese had built up to something phenomenally evil inside her. She looked behind her. Yes, he was still there. And so she let out her mustard gas in a steady stream upon the enemy! The effect on Subramaniamajaykumarraghu (for that was later given out as his official name) was quite dramatic. The smile froze on his lips. His eyes lost their glitter and glazed over; his color changed to an ashen hue, and then he collapsed with a soft shuffle amongst all the lingerie. She could just see his Bata shoes as he lay fully stretched out on the floor......

and with that she proceeded to look for the miracle that she so desperately needed. She spotted something lying under Subra (that's what everyone called him) and gave it a tug. It was a silky black lacy thong!!! No panty lines with this she thought. Holding them up for all to see, she pressed the thong against herself to see if it was the right size. The salesgirl stepped over Sabra, saying "Ma'am, Ma'am they just your size. One size fits all Ma'am". So with that assurance, VPL headed off to the changing room. With a bit of a wiggle ands struggle VPL removed her polyester white pants then stepped out of her granny pants, put one leg through the thong, then the other leg and gently pulled it up but the throng stopped at her knees. With that she grabbed both sides of the thong and gave it a yank up. When they snapped up into place.............................

she let out a scream as the storage liquid in her hump squirted from the extreme thong pressure onto the face of.............

… A passing Shaolin monk, who was covertly fundraising for the Underprivileged Executive members of the ruling Chinese Communist Party, under the guise of an official Arabic charity, who immediately forgave VPL for the offending face splosh, but summarily executed the itinerant salesgirl, decapitating her with a single, foul stroke of his concealed weapon, for selling such a ridiculous item of undersized clothing to a camel who was so obviously by now, suffering with a severe case of Haemorrhoids.

But wait a minute! Can it be?… upon a closer examination it became apparent that the sudden snap of the undersized thong springing into place had catapulted the piles back into that dark place from where they originally came, relief for the poor old girl as last, after a big sigh of relief VPL and her friends stole away from the ensuing fracas in the underwear shop like thieves in the night…

in a taxi that was driven by a phychobabel taxi driver known to many of the school chums as..........

...PTD...

PTD also stood for Pakistani Taxi Driver or in his close circles as the Paki Turbanned Demon.
Now, every good book worth its salt must have romance sprouting somewhere in it, and so this one is no exception. And it happened something like this: VPL and her chum come tearing out of the lingerie shop, and get into PTDs waiting Taxi, who tears off in the general direction of no particular destination. Glancing frequently in the rear view mirror PTD's scowl deepened as the girls had a fit of giggles in the back seat of the Taxi. PTD was certain they were going to roast in hell fire for sure. But as things settled down and the drive became a little more sedate, PTD's and VPL's eyes met in the mirror and it is said that was the moment of the chemistry between them.....

.... Their eyes locked, and with their pulse racing, they locked lips and were revealing their animal sides, as the temperature rose, the car in which they were "Getting it on" , the windows started to get foggy, across the street was Xzibits's - pimp my ride crew, looking for a white colored toyota corolla, he and his crew spot the car and start moving in that direction.......