A PEBA MMO Story

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Sandgnats
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Re: A PEBA MMO Story

#16 Post by Sandgnats »

It was a dark and stormy night. Rain belted the windows with such force that the silhouetted figure inside the room jumped with a startled alarm. John Rodriguez, departed PEBA commissioner for life went to the shadow-draped ballpark organ in the corner of his laboratory and pounded out the chords to the famous "charge" riff. Somewhere out in the sodden gloom, a lone voice could be heard to reply faintly, 'charge...' As a duck could be seen swimming by...

Jolted back into the present, his gaze turned to the package on the table. With it's postmarking from Havana and it's unusual weight, he sat in front of it perplexed. "These must be the heaviest cigars in the world," he murmured to himself. He gently shook it and was startled by a strange noise, was it, from inside the package?

And why did it come Cash On Delivery?

Taking out his letter opener, the man tore away the brown paper wrapping of the parcel, his efforts revealing a somewhat worn box for a Magnavox VHS tape rewinder. "Dammit," he exclaimed, while slamming his palm into his forehead, "I just took my last working VHS tape to Goodwill yesterday, and I don't think there's any way to make this silly rewinder work on all of my sweet Betamax titles."

Frustrated, he cast aside the rewinder revealing the CD affixed to its bottom, bearing a note that read 'seriously? you thought we communicate by vhs? our methods are more modern Mr Rodriguez. -a friend'. John stared at the handwriting on the note, in disbelief - no, it couldn't, then turned his gaze across the room to a picture of himself, his father and brother Chris taken on the inaugural PEBA Opening Day at Northern Lights Park - no, it can't be.

As the early April snow flurries started to fly across the sky...
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Re: A PEBA MMO Story

#17 Post by Leones »

It was a dark and stormy night. Rain belted the windows with such force that the silhouetted figure inside the room jumped with a startled alarm. John Rodriguez, departed PEBA commissioner for life went to the shadow-draped ballpark organ in the corner of his laboratory and pounded out the chords to the famous "charge" riff. Somewhere out in the sodden gloom, a lone voice could be heard to reply faintly, 'charge...' As a duck could be seen swimming by...

Jolted back into the present, his gaze turned to the package on the table. With it's postmarking from Havana and it's unusual weight, he sat in front of it perplexed. "These must be the heaviest cigars in the world," he murmured to himself. He gently shook it and was startled by a strange noise, was it, from inside the package?

And why did it come Cash On Delivery?

Taking out his letter opener, the man tore away the brown paper wrapping of the parcel, his efforts revealing a somewhat worn box for a Magnavox VHS tape rewinder. "Dammit," he exclaimed, while slamming his palm into his forehead, "I just took my last working VHS tape to Goodwill yesterday, and I don't think there's any way to make this silly rewinder work on all of my sweet Betamax titles."

Frustrated, he cast aside the rewinder revealing the CD affixed to its bottom, bearing a note that read 'seriously? you thought we communicate by vhs? our methods are more modern Mr Rodriguez. -a friend'. John stared at the handwriting on the note, in disbelief - no, it couldn't, then turned his gaze across the room to a picture of himself, his father and brother Chris taken on the inaugural PEBA Opening Day at Northern Lights Park - no, it can't be.

As the early April snow flurries started to fly across the sky... He turned on the television to watch the 2024 PEBA Championship game.


edit: perhaps we should open it up a bit and allow more sentences per post. How about a whole paragraph?
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Re: A PEBA MMO Story

#18 Post by Arroyos »

Leones wrote:It was a dark and stormy night. Rain belted the windows with such force that the silhouetted figure inside the room jumped with a startled alarm. John Rodriguez, departed PEBA commissioner for life went to the shadow-draped ballpark organ in the corner of his laboratory and pounded out the chords to the famous "charge" riff. Somewhere out in the sodden gloom, a lone voice could be heard to reply faintly, 'charge...' As a duck could be seen swimming by...

Jolted back into the present, his gaze turned to the package on the table. With it's postmarking from Havana and it's unusual weight, he sat in front of it perplexed. "These must be the heaviest cigars in the world," he murmured to himself. He gently shook it and was startled by a strange noise, was it, from inside the package?

And why did it come Cash On Delivery?

Taking out his letter opener, the man tore away the brown paper wrapping of the parcel, his efforts revealing a somewhat worn box for a Magnavox VHS tape rewinder. "Dammit," he exclaimed, while slamming his palm into his forehead, "I just took my last working VHS tape to Goodwill yesterday, and I don't think there's any way to make this silly rewinder work on all of my sweet Betamax titles."

Frustrated, he cast aside the rewinder revealing the CD affixed to its bottom, bearing a note that read 'seriously? you thought we communicate by vhs? our methods are more modern Mr Rodriguez. -a friend'. John stared at the handwriting on the note, in disbelief - no, it couldn't, then turned his gaze across the room to a picture of himself, his father and brother Chris taken on the inaugural PEBA Opening Day at Northern Lights Park - no, it can't be.

As the early April snow flurries started to fly across the sky... He turned on the television to watch the 2024 PEBA Championship game.


edit: perhaps we should open it up a bit and allow more sentences per post. How about a whole paragraph?
[one sentence is enough, Patrick]

At first the picture was fuzzy, the signal scrambled, lines and colors all criss-crossing one another as if Jackson Pollock himself were diddling with the signal, spilling streams of digital color across an electronic canvas, splashing blue here and red there, then dripping green and white and gray over it all, stirring and mixing and spilling and splashing until what is revealed is not an image of the external world but a metaphor for the internal workings of the human heart, a grand expression of emotion, a revelation of the unconscious, and John was staring at it, this kinetic Rorschach blot of his being, studying it, wondering what it all had to do with baseball, what Pollock and expressionism and color and the unconscious had to do with the PEBAverse he loved, when suddenly the image began to reassemble itself, pixels predictably prioritizing, loosened lines linking, chaotic colors collaborating, and John began to see the formulation of a great structure, a magnificent monument emerging from the digital delusion, a stadium of hopes, a field of dreams, a ballpark of the imagination, and there--yes, right there--on the mound, John could begin to make out the figures of ballplayers in their bright uniforms, pink and green uniforms, dancing and jumping and hugging one another, and slowly it dawned on John he was watching a post-game celebration, that somehow between the fuzzy television signal and the visual journal into his own soul, he had missed the game and caught only this dream-like image of young men leaping into each other's arms, a Pollock-like collision of pink and green spilling across the red earth and green grass of a baseball diamond somewhere in his imagination——but wait, he thought, pink and green, doesn't that mean?—and then John fainted with the realization that Palm Springs had won.
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Re: A PEBA MMO Story

#19 Post by roncollins »

It was a dark and stormy night. Rain belted the windows with such force that the silhouetted figure inside the room jumped with a startled alarm. John Rodriguez, departed PEBA commissioner for life went to the shadow-draped ballpark organ in the corner of his laboratory and pounded out the chords to the famous "charge" riff. Somewhere out in the sodden gloom, a lone voice could be heard to reply faintly, 'charge...' As a duck could be seen swimming by...

Jolted back into the present, his gaze turned to the package on the table. With it's postmarking from Havana and it's unusual weight, he sat in front of it perplexed. "These must be the heaviest cigars in the world," he murmured to himself. He gently shook it and was startled by a strange noise, was it, from inside the package?

And why did it come Cash On Delivery?

Taking out his letter opener, the man tore away the brown paper wrapping of the parcel, his efforts revealing a somewhat worn box for a Magnavox VHS tape rewinder. "Dammit," he exclaimed, while slamming his palm into his forehead, "I just took my last working VHS tape to Goodwill yesterday, and I don't think there's any way to make this silly rewinder work on all of my sweet Betamax titles."

Frustrated, he cast aside the rewinder revealing the CD affixed to its bottom, bearing a note that read 'seriously? you thought we communicate by vhs? our methods are more modern Mr Rodriguez. -a friend'. John stared at the handwriting on the note, in disbelief - no, it couldn't, then turned his gaze across the room to a picture of himself, his father and brother Chris taken on the inaugural PEBA Opening Day at Northern Lights Park - no, it can't be.

As the early April snow flurries started to fly across the sky... He turned on the television to watch the 2024 PEBA Championship game.

At first the picture was fuzzy, the signal scrambled, lines and colors all criss-crossing one another as if Jackson Pollock himself were diddling with the signal, spilling streams of digital color across an electronic canvas, splashing blue here and red there, then dripping green and white and gray over it all, stirring and mixing and spilling and splashing until what is revealed is not an image of the external world but a metaphor for the internal workings of the human heart, a grand expression of emotion, a revelation of the unconscious, and John was staring at it, this kinetic Rorschach blot of his being, studying it, wondering what it all had to do with baseball, what Pollock and expressionism and color and the unconscious had to do with the PEBAverse he loved, when suddenly the image began to reassemble itself, pixels predictably prioritizing, loosened lines linking, chaotic colors collaborating, and John began to see the formulation of a great structure, a magnificent monument emerging from the digital delusion, a stadium of hopes, a field of dreams, a ballpark of the imagination, and there--yes, right there--on the mound, John could begin to make out the figures of ballplayers in their bright uniforms, pink and green uniforms, dancing and jumping and hugging one another, and slowly it dawned on John he was watching a post-game celebration, that somehow between the fuzzy television signal and the visual journal into his own soul, he had missed the game and caught only this dream-like image of young men leaping into each other's arms, a Pollock-like collision of pink and green spilling across the red earth and green grass of a baseball diamond somewhere in his imagination——but wait, he thought, pink and green, doesn't that mean?—and then John fainted with the realization that Palm Springs had won.

When he recovered, the ex-commissioner for life crawled back to the table and pulled himself up into a chair, steadying himself as his watery vision gazed across the surface to see the figure he knew would be there: Inspector Yuni Ichihara, ex-officer of the Japanese police.
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Re: A PEBA MMO Story

#20 Post by Coqui »

It was a dark and stormy night. Rain belted the windows with such force that the silhouetted figure inside the room jumped with a startled alarm. John Rodriguez, departed PEBA commissioner for life went to the shadow-draped ballpark organ in the corner of his laboratory and pounded out the chords to the famous "charge" riff. Somewhere out in the sodden gloom, a lone voice could be heard to reply faintly, 'charge...' As a duck could be seen swimming by...

Jolted back into the present, his gaze turned to the package on the table. With it's postmarking from Havana and it's unusual weight, he sat in front of it perplexed. "These must be the heaviest cigars in the world," he murmured to himself. He gently shook it and was startled by a strange noise, was it, from inside the package?

And why did it come Cash On Delivery?

Taking out his letter opener, the man tore away the brown paper wrapping of the parcel, his efforts revealing a somewhat worn box for a Magnavox VHS tape rewinder. "Dammit," he exclaimed, while slamming his palm into his forehead, "I just took my last working VHS tape to Goodwill yesterday, and I don't think there's any way to make this silly rewinder work on all of my sweet Betamax titles."

Frustrated, he cast aside the rewinder revealing the CD affixed to its bottom, bearing a note that read 'seriously? you thought we communicate by vhs? our methods are more modern Mr Rodriguez. -a friend'. John stared at the handwriting on the note, in disbelief - no, it couldn't, then turned his gaze across the room to a picture of himself, his father and brother Chris taken on the inaugural PEBA Opening Day at Northern Lights Park - no, it can't be.

As the early April snow flurries started to fly across the sky... He turned on the television to watch the 2024 PEBA Championship game.

At first the picture was fuzzy, the signal scrambled, lines and colors all criss-crossing one another as if Jackson Pollock himself were diddling with the signal, spilling streams of digital color across an electronic canvas, splashing blue here and red there, then dripping green and white and gray over it all, stirring and mixing and spilling and splashing until what is revealed is not an image of the external world but a metaphor for the internal workings of the human heart, a grand expression of emotion, a revelation of the unconscious, and John was staring at it, this kinetic Rorschach blot of his being, studying it, wondering what it all had to do with baseball, what Pollock and expressionism and color and the unconscious had to do with the PEBAverse he loved, when suddenly the image began to reassemble itself, pixels predictably prioritizing, loosened lines linking, chaotic colors collaborating, and John began to see the formulation of a great structure, a magnificent monument emerging from the digital delusion, a stadium of hopes, a field of dreams, a ballpark of the imagination, and there--yes, right there--on the mound, John could begin to make out the figures of ballplayers in their bright uniforms, pink and green uniforms, dancing and jumping and hugging one another, and slowly it dawned on John he was watching a post-game celebration, that somehow between the fuzzy television signal and the visual journal into his own soul, he had missed the game and caught only this dream-like image of young men leaping into each other's arms, a Pollock-like collision of pink and green spilling across the red earth and green grass of a baseball diamond somewhere in his imagination——but wait, he thought, pink and green, doesn't that mean?—and then John fainted with the realization that Palm Springs had won.

When he recovered, the ex-commissioner for life crawled back to the table and pulled himself up into a chair, steadying himself as his watery vision gazed across the surface to see the figure he knew would be there: Inspector Yuni Ichihara, ex-officer of the Japanese police. That was where he had been sitting when he entered the surreal alternate reality where the Codgers had won the Rodriguez Cup, a Rodriguez Cup that in this reality no longer existed - - no, in this world, it was the League of the Rising Sun that featured the ultimate in baseball talent, with three time LRS pitcher of the year Dennis Ready having led the Kuwana Steel Dragons to back to back titles.
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