My life is like a bowl of oatmeal. It’s bland, grey, and kind of lumpy, only becoming bearable when I pile on the brown sugar.
Unlike the rest, the “brown sugar” part isn’t a metaphor. I crave the stuff constantly, by the bowlful.
Ironically, I’m kind of a bitter person.
This story is based on a title suggested by @cthomlan.
“Hello?”
“Hey man.” I could hear Marv’s half-baked grin through the phone.
I sighed. “Fall off the wagon again?”
“Kinda! I’m still sober, but I broke my hip falling off a hay ride, and I’m suing big! Awesome, eh? Gonna miss some meetings.”
Being Marv’s sponsor drove me to drink.
This story was based on the TypeTrigger prompt “falling off the.”
“It’s a sand witch!” I shouted. “Run!”
My warning came too late. She caught us in her magical snares and turned us into camels.
It took three years to escape, and two more to find a wizard who could change us back. On the upside, I kept the water retention.
This story was based on the TypeTrigger prompt “it’s a sandwich.”
“You and me, we’re flanking, right?”
“I thought we were the vanguard.”
“What’s a vanguard?”
“The guys at the front, I think.”
“Aren’t those the shock troopers?”
“Only if they’re charging ahead and catching the enemy by surprise.”
“Like a blitzkrieg?”
“Sort of.”
“These water fights have gotten really complicated.”
This story was based on the TypeTrigger prompt “and me.”
In a secret room, a sinister cabal meets. The men there share a common goal, one they’ve had since childhood.
Among charts of rising temperatures and shrinking Arctic ice, they talk of proving what the non-believers denied.
Maps of the North Pole lie circled.
Operation: Flush Out Santa nears completion.
Cole Grinnell is a scientist, writer, and actor who works, when he works, out of Baltimore, Maryland. He should have a blog, but strangely, he doesn’t.
“What are you making today, Geraldo?”
“My friend, I have many creations! Witness my self-baking bread, and these gingerbread men dance and sing! Marvelous, no?”
“Truly, but all I wish for are some buns to eat with my soup.”
“How sad,” said Geraldo, “that we live in such a world.”
This story is based on a title suggested by @Zutzy.
“Hello, nurse.”
“Good morning!”
“What’s on the menu today?”
“Appendix removal with side salad is on special, and Doctor Jones is whipping up his homemade double bypass.”
“Sounds wonderful, but I’m on a budget today. I’ll take a half-order of hip replacement, please.”
“Certainly. Don’t forget to tip your orderly!”
This story is based on a title suggested by @Invariel.
“They’re at it again.”
“Well, what do you want me to do about it?”
“Go out there and stop them. It’s bad enough they trespass onto our property. Now they’re starting to steal from us. I don’t know how much more I can take.”
“Honey, calm down, they’re just squirrels.”
Wendy Schmidt is a Wisconsin native who has written short stories and poems for the last 10 years. Her poetry and short stories have been published in Strange, Weird and Wonderful, Daily Love, Three Line Poetry, Tainted Tea, Fear and Trembling, and Midwest Literary Magazine.
Their sheds and bunkers were overloaded with guns, ammo, rations, reactors, and even entertainment, everything they thought they needed. For five years they had readied themselves for the invaders’ arrival.
The one thing they hadn’t counted on was the aliens’ overwhelming cuteness.
Psychologically incapable of fighting back, they were overrun.
This story is based on a title suggested by David Paye.
“I have a hard time making good decisions.”
“Yeah?”
“I always seem to pick the greater of two evils. Like yesterday I skipped my final exam to compete in a hot dog-eating contest.”
“I think I see your problem.”
“Really? What?”
“You consider writing an exam to be an ‘evil’…”
This story is based on a title suggested by Nathan Barber.