Exciting imaginative contest!

[muckefuck]

In order to console myself on the destruction of my favourite jacket, I've decided to open a contest for Most Entertaining Explanation of how the mysterious damage occurred. Following the example of welcomerain, I'm offering prizes. Since I'm no graphic artist, first prize will be a fascinating and appropriate ethnic name in the language of your choice.

The Facts: Shortly after 5 p.m. last night, I boarded the southbound Express train. I took a seat facing against the direction of travel and laid my right arm on the sill of the adjoining window. It was then that I noticed two pairs of small holes, each large enough to poke a finger through, along either side of the seam on the underside of the right sleeve. Each pair is separated by about eight centimetres; the pairs are slightly staggered relative to each other. The most forward hole is almost at the seam where the sleeve meets the wrist and its staggered counterpart on the opposite side of the sleeve seam is 2 cm. from the wrist seam.

The Story: [?]

Comments

[mollpeartree.livejournal.com]

My brain is too clouded by moths to devise a good story; can I just have a Russian name for my command chair?

[muckefuck.livejournal.com]

Prevent anyone else from entering (which may well be a trivial task) and you'll have the best entry, hands down. Then claim your boon!

Ken Explains The Jacket

[(Anonymous)]

The war on terrorism means that a lot of new covert ops people need to get hurry-up training. Not all of them can be James Bond, as it turns out, and one of them mistook the Invisible Terrorist-Killing Particle Beam for the Cunning Eavesdropping TEMPEST Laser Beam. He was attempting to eavesdrop on your compartment because you were subvocalising foreign words (so foreign that they misspelled "subvocalizing"), which is, of course, prima facie evidence of un-Americanosity. Plus, he had a romantic spy-and-subject crush on you going on, which may have contributed to his dizzy, sweaty-palmed fumbling with the various death rays at his disposal.

If I win, I also want a Russian name for Sheila's command chair, so that I can trade it to her for a sour-cream apple pie.

[0595.livejournal.com]

I say it's a conspiracy by Master Card to make you charge up some more credit for them. You know, maybe they used leprechauns with mideval surgical equipment or maybe those worm-humans that came to the U. S. on that nuclear Russian ship on that episode of The X-Files did it. Maybe a gynecologist discovered his lover is seeing another woman and in a fit of rage he stabbed at your jacket blindly with his speculum. Maybe an industrial worker borrowed your jacket while you were sleeping for her job in the factory's night shift and then returned it before you awoke, but in that night she got involved in an industrial accident and if it weren't for your jacket her arm would have been pulled off at the socket.

[kayiwa.livejournal.com]

The New Life Form has escaped and has started it's World Dominion plan by eating through the fabric that makes this society stay together. [No one said the new life form was smart] It will gnaw away at all clothing, leaving all people without clothes, then phase two will begin;

be very afraid.

[muckefuck.livejournal.com]

Great Scott! It sounds like K.A.O.S.' most diabolical plot since they hatched the Nude Bomb!

[bunj.livejournal.com]

Magic bullet. You're lucky to be alive!

[almeda.livejournal.com]

While you were snoozing on the bus a week ago, a baby Elder God emerged from a space-time fold just under your seat and began to climb up beside you. It fastened a row of toothed suckers on yuor jacket sleeve (and what a good thing you were wearing it!) for purchase, and began to climb higher, hungrily; it was just your good luck that the bag lady in the next seat noticed, pulled out a holy symbol, and with a quick three sentences of throat-clearing Primeval Tongue, caused it to disintegrate into a foul smell and a brief blue sparkle in the air.

[rollick.livejournal.com]

I think a very short, fat vampire was repeatedly trying to get to your arm while you sat on the el, distracted by plans for your next lengthy LJ post. After biting you several times and getting nothing but jacket, it concluded that you were one of the inorganic spy-bots the government's been randomly inserting into public places to keep an eye on all of us. You're fortunate that your jacket laid down its life, or at least its sleeve integrity, to save you. Though you might want to check your arm for matching holes, and see how you currently feel about garlic and walking into people's homes without invitation, just in case.

[hitchhiker.livejournal.com]

A small but thriving colony of planebound mites living in your jacket fabric finally discovered that wrinkling the fibresheet to explain third dimensional tunneling was not just a thought experiment. First pair is the original wormhole, second pair was the return trip. The staggering has to do with the way spacetime works in 2+i dimensions, and represents the time they spent boldly going where no mite had gone before. (Needless to say, there was already a colony on the other end to greet them).

(almeda (http://www.livejournal.com/users/almeda) sent me - blame her :))