The CMEslinger: Part 1 (A CMEpalooza Serial)

“This could either be one of the best things or one of the dumbest things we’ve ever done.” — Derek Warnick, December 2024

Back in the late 1800s, it was very popular for famous authors to publish their latest novels as newspaper serials, releasing a new chapter every week in whatever broadsheet paid them the most money. Classics such as The Count of Monte Cristo, A Tale of Two Cities, and Around the World in Eighty Days were all originally published in this manner before being released as full novels. It was a way for authors to make extra money as well as build interest in their literature. I am guessing it was somewhat akin to the way that we used to have to wait until every Wednesday at 10 pm to find out the latest twist in the Dynasty feud between the Carringtons and the Colbys.

Of course, seeing as Derek and I are on the cutting edge of technology, we figured we’ll roll back the clock (wayyy back) and revisit the glory of the serial story era this winter with our special form of improv literature. Starting today and continuing over the next 6 Fridays, we’ll publish one part of The CMEslinger. We’ve alternated the writing of each part, basically forcing each other to continue the story where the last person has left off. We didn’t discuss our plans for the story as it progressed (hence the “improv” component). I think we’ve done fairly well not trapping each other into a corner with each part, but you can be the judge of that.

So without further ado, part one of The CMEslinger.

Part 1 (Derek)
The man in black fled across the desert, and the CMEslinger followed.

The omnipresent sun, nearing its unmerciful daily zenith, had scorched the sky free from all but the barest traces of blue. Slouching down slightly in his saddle to better settle into the rhythms of the palomino pony he rode, the CMEslinger reached for the canteen strapped across his body and lifted it to his dried, cracked lips.

Of all the disappointments the CMEslinger had experienced in a life full of many, none brought his faded grey eyes closer to tears than the hollow sound of the desert wind howling across his empty canteen. Flinging it away in disgust, he spurred the pony on, muttering to himself, “I really should have filled up the dang canteen at the office before I left. And why did I decide to ride a horse instead of calling an Uber?”

Crusty old Phinneas – part mentor, part tormentor, part department head – would be disappointed in him. “Never be not prepared!” he constantly drilled into his team, his indirect phrasing baffling them all into a fresh awareness of old ideas. Old Phinneas would be disappointed in him, but not surprised, the CMEslinger never being a favorite. That honor was reserved for the darkly dressed man he now pursued.

With a head shake of annoyance, the CMEslinger glanced at the dented pewter pocket watch with the Philadelphia 76ers logo in the middle that he always kept tied to his saddle horn. He’d been chasing the man in black for several hours now and had made no progress. Peering through narrowed eyes battling the sun’s unrelenting rays, the only remaining sign of the man in black was the powdery dust kicked up by his rental car settling on the desert highway.

The conference was in two days and the man in black was slipping from his grasp. He had to get moving.