The sign said “$10 for photo and handshake; hugs and autographs extra”. The queue said “Yes, please!”
“I love hearing the sheep crack open their wallets,” muttered the author of “How to Spot a Con Man,” measuring his stack of money against his stack of books and stifling a devilish grin.
This story was based on the prompt “crack open the” at TypeTrigger.
Lightning crashed.
Wind whistled through the trees. He was only halfway through Greensleeves before Lightning asked if whistling was not maybe just a bit too jaunty, given their predicament.
Wind complied as he helped his friend untangle himself from his airbag. “Just try not to crash so hard next time.”
Jeremy Petter is a student of English Literature and Theatre at the University of Victoria. Until recently, he wrote, performed, and sometimes edited funny things for LoadingReadyRun.com, but he’s on indefinite hiatus at the moment to grow his brain. He is a co-organizer of Desert Bus for Hope, and an avid fan of ducks.
He tried desperately to keep the merchandise hidden under his shirt, but the guard had already noticed his fumbling.
“Maybe you should’ve worked out a bit before trying to steal those heavy weights!” laughed the security guard.
“What do you think I want them for?” retorted the scrawny boy.
“Touché.”
Justin Boyd writes and draws the webcomic Invisible Bread and is half of the duo behind Left-Handed Toons. He previously contributed Dental Scare.
Ronette hated bears.
One sat on her convertible.
The bear rustled the bag of chips on its snout.
She threw some chips into the back yard. The bear went after them.
Ronette started the convertible and sped away, but stopped as the bear cub wasn’t in a child safety seat.
Greg X. Graves likes monsters, ghost monsters, alien monsters, beast monsters, and monster monsters. Read more about them on his site, www.gregxgraves.com.
Joanna had seventeen seconds to decide: would she help herself, or help someone else? Which would it be, selfishness or altruism?
To her left lay the bike trail to work. To her right, a struggling local donut shop and the subway system.
Joanna turned right. Today, she was a hero.
This story is based on a title suggested by @Haberley.
Four flies met at a crossroads, each one travelling north, south, east, or west.
“East is amazing,” said one, “but I hear west is better.”
“South is supposed to be fantastic.”
“North, I’m told, is far superior.”
Each fly returned the way it had come, content with its homeland’s reputation.
This story is based on a title suggested by Mark McCarthy.
Bryson was just a dumb baboon. He knew nothing about radioactivity or mutations: all he knew was that the glowing green thing he’d eaten had tasted funny.
He hadn’t yet noticed the line of pebbles he was inadvertently levitating with his new telekinetic powers. He was just a dumb baboon.
This story is based on a title suggested by Kathleen DeVere of LoadingReadyRun.
Detective Cork eyed the plate of steak-and-mushroom pie, his stomach gurgling in anticipation. “Blarney, you havin’ sum?”
His partner shook his head, too preoccupied with the case.
Gold coins, a short man in green… What was the connection?
Outside, the sun broke through, painting the sky with a brilliant rainbow.
Jordan Sevenhuysen recently spent two months travelling through Europe. This story was inspired by his time in Ireland.
Shawn worked long hours, and at home there were diapers to change, bottles to warm, and feet to rub. He had only four sacred, personal minutes each day to kick off his pants and relax.
One day, he was interrupted: “Daddy, I hafta gooooo!”
Curse you, potty training, he thought.
This story is based on a title suggested by Zach Denoncour.
“When they open up that door, you’re gonna whop ’em on the knees with your shovel, okay, son?”
Little Harley nodded his freckled nose and gripped his shovel as tight as he could.
Jim leveled his shotgun. Wasn’t every year you got to do the surprising on your own birthday.
This story was based on the prompt “when they come” at TypeTrigger.