Pay Dirt triples Twitter Followers

You guys are giving me feedback, and I’m incorporating your ideas. Together, we’re creating quite a world. Twitter and Facebook are still buzzing, and I’m excited about it. Twitter followers of the story have tripled in two weeks. Thanks to you!

Thanks again, everyone who’s participating. This is how the second week went…

Kat stood, DJ bug-eyed and puppet-wobbling, pliers clamped between his legs. "So cute for a moron," she said, "Say, you like Kat or Kathy?"

Katrina Geauxmieux before the storm, Kat LeRouge loathed the name Kathy, and using her mom's last name sounded way cooler than Kat "Go Mew".

"I like whichever one makes you turn loose my boner and lets me haul ass away from you."

Kat kissed DJ's cheek, stirring the crowd. Then she turned and pranced up the street with DJ close behind her and the crowd applauding.

"Please unclamp me," DJ said, shuffling his feet as fast as Kat could walk. "What if I want to have kids or something?"

Around a dark corner, Kat slammed DJ against a wall. Her big brown eyes inches from his, she released the pliers, but DJ didn't move.

"How about we knock off a Circle K and get wasted at the casino?" She asked.

 

Four hours and five hundred miles away, Bobby Grim smirked in the plate glass window at the rays kaleidescoping his peeled head. Amazing sunrises in Texas, but everything else sucks.

The guy next to him needed to shut-up. If Ernie didn't open soon, he’d open with blood splattered on the pawn shop doors.

"You know I ain't had my coffee," said the hairy guy in the bent cowboy hat. "Keep whining, won't be my fault what happens to you."

The bony girl's lips quivered. Her eyes, sunk deep in her head, stared.

Bobby Grim picked up a Coke bottle filled with and cigarette butts and Skoal juice. He walked towards Bent Hat, just as Ernie's bug rolled into the lot.

Bent Hat and the bony woman met Ernie at the door. Bobby Grim dropped the bottle into the trash and followed them inside.

The woman placed three rings and an anklet on the counter. Ernie asked, "Pawn or Sell."

Bent Hat answered, "Selling" before she could speak.

Bobby Grim stood behind them, gnawing his lower lip, and fumbling with a battered pawn ticket between his thumb and forefinger.

First Week of Pay Dirt starts Internet Buzzing

Together, we’ve written quite a story so far. Twitter and Facebook are starting to buzz, and I’m blown away. Twitter followers of the story have actually doubled in the last three days. Thanks to you!

Really, I want to thank everyone participating. So far, so good…

Two miles out of Vegas, Bobby Grim sat on his backpack, thumb in the air. Seven days to make New Orleans and arrange a hunting accident.

On Bourbon Street, the French Quarter hood ornaments knew not to look at Kat LeRouge too long, much less spit the B word, but DJ Ponchatoula reigned from the 985 and whatn't taking nothing from no 504 shorty. "On your knees, Be-atch. I got some lunch meat for you."

"Yummy," Kat said, licking her lips and kneeling before DJ and the crowd outside Johnny White's Bar. "Whip that big Andouille out here."

The sidewalk gawkers cheered and DJ's face got hot. He looked left to right, then shrugged and unzipped.

The crowd roared.

"Bon Appétit, Be-atch," DJ said.

His last syllable went a little long, when Kat jabbed something shiny into his crotch. "Craftsman Vise Grips," she said, "double clamped."

For those just joining the party, here’s what we’ve been doing: In the tradition of the fast-production pulps of old, I got a wild plot and some zany, but dangerous characters, and through Twitter and Facebook, readers are helping create a crime fiction short story posting less than 140 characters per day. (Yea, I know I posted extra on Friday, but I couldn’t wait!)

As I said before, you could watch me fall on my face in an experiment gone wrong, or you can guide my actions, and together we can invent a new medium—a pulpy sort of Tweet Fiction or Twitter Pulp.

Our plot:  When Wild Child Kat LeRouge hooks up with Bad Boy DJ Ponchatoula, they find out the hard way that some New Orleans cab drivers carry guns. Desperate for safer income, Kat decides to blackmail a crooked Louisiana politician—a scheme that brings this modern day Bonnie and Clyde face to face with CIA Black-Ops Baddie Bobby Grim.

Next installments on Twitter and Facebook tomorrow.

Let me know what you think. Since technically this story hasn't been written yet, your thoughts and feedback will actually change the course and ultimate outcome of the story. Message me or tweet your ideas to everyone. As a group, you the readers, will actually decide who lives, who dies, and how many thrills they experience along the way.