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Okay, this is simply the campfire game adapted to internet format. You start a story with a single sentence, and then somebody else has to continue the story by adding a sentence.
If two days pass without a post, the story is considered a 'dead-end' and the next poster can start a new story.
I'll start.
After losing three fingers, Mister Krowly decided that juggling knives probably wasn't a good idea.
Unfortunately for Mister Krowly and two innocent bystanders, he decided juggling flaming torches without those three fingers WAS a good idea.
... for one of the torches landed on a plague-ridden rat, setting it ablaze, scurrying into the local dungheap, saving him from a pestilence-ridden life.
His vermin buddies were spared from the crawling flames, however; as the inferno consumed the docks the little carriers took refuge in the city's reservoir.
"Damn it all," cried Sedgeworth as the grim vision dawned before him, pausing briefly to put out a spark which had alighted on his whimsically brown tophat.
"My supervisors aren't going to be happy about this. Susan was right, hypnotizing rubes to be street performers just doesn't end well." Sedgeworth drew forth a pad of yellow legal paper and began to tally damages.
"But what Susan doesn't know won't hurt her," he mused as he walked briskly down the street in the chilly autumn air, surveying whatever caught his attention from the antics of the day.
Across town, three corporate officials, faces grim, sat on a penthouse balcony staring at the rampant flames that were quickly devouring their plans.
The first said, "Well there goes all of our secret shady deal meeting spots in one fell swoop."
On the other side of the building, a lone figure jumps out of the top story window onto the rope ladder of a helicopter - clutched in his hands a manilla folder chock full of documents.
Little did the corporate officials know, the fire was merely a distraction for whistleblower Colen Castor to reveal all of their shady dealings.
The screen fades to a dimly lit bar scene as a silhouette in a rain coat and hat appears in the doorway; briefcase in hand.
Making eye contact with the bartender, he removed his hat and ordered a vodka tonic, the code she expected to hear.
"That will be four dollars fifty-three" she declared with a sly grin, sliding a falsified receipt across the bar.
This was to let the man know that 4:53 was the time at which he was to meet Colen Castor to receive the documents he procured, and on the receipt was printed (in code) the meeting place.
But when he arrived at the assigned meeting place, he found Colen was not there. He realized that this must be because everyone has lost interest in the story, so he went home and forgot all about it.