With feline grace, the household predator crept to the base of the table. Above, her prey slept, carefree.
With two quick hops, it was all over.
The cat smiled to herself through a crunchy mouthful of cat food. Yep, she still had it.
Her next sneak attack victim? The litterbox!
The enders huddled together confused, searching for a way to begin.
“Is it possible?” asked Denouement.
“I doubt it,” sighed Foregone.
“Ha!” exclaimed Period, “I bet you it’s already happened!”
“Let’s ask Paradox,” suggested Unresolved, though he knew as well as anyone that Paradox was absent.
Paradox just smiled knowingly.
Today’s Guest Story comes from Jeremy Petter. Jer is a member of LoadingReadyRun.com, an internet sketch comedy group that updates with a new video every Monday. LoadingReadyRun (LRR) recently launched www.commodoreHUSTLE.com to hosts LRR’s web TV show commodoreHUSTLE, which updates with a new episode on the first Monday of each month.
Two bodies sway across the living room, their dance accompanied by the soothing strains of Barry Manilow.
“Mmph,” says the woman. “Your chin is… prickly.”
“Yeah,” says the man. “I’m going for sort of an ‘anthropomorphized wombat’ look. Do you like it?”
“…Here’s a razor. Your choice: chin or throat.”
Editor’s Note: This story was based on a call on Twitter for a noun, an adjective, and a verb. @Sarahkitten responded with wombat, prickly, and dance.
“Tell us a story, Grampa!”
“Alright, kids! Once there was an old man with fourteen grandchildren. He was a grumpy man, so he took all their toys away and burned them. The End.”
“Thanks for the story, Grampa! Can we play dolls now?”
“Sorry, Susie. It was a true story.”
Muscles rippled under the skin of the runner’s mighty thighs.
BANG!
They were off!
He kept his head down, pouring all of his energy into each stride. No challengers were close behind, and only a few yards remained!
WHOOSH!
The rest of the pack swept past, moving the opposite direction.
“Lights! Camera! Action!”
“Tamara, I’m not very good with words, but I guess what I’m trying to say is… Will you marry me?”
Tamara blushed convincingly. “Really?” she said. “Yes, of course!”
They kissed.
“That’s not how the script goes!” said the director. “Oh, I get it. Congratulations, you two.”
“I think I dropped it over here somewhere. It might’ve rolled under something.”
“You should be more careful.”
“I’m sorry! I don’t know how it happened!”
“You’re so absentminded… What did you lose this time, anyways?”
“My brain.”
“What? Are you out of your mind!?”
“No, it’s out of me!”
Crowded around the flickering television, they watched in rapt anticipation. Desire swelled in their chests; hope waxed and waned with every advancement of the ball.
Now, victory was at hand.
Now, all was lost.
Minutes remained; then Hooray! It was over!
The home team had lost; let the rioting begin!
“Harold, there’s a gorilla in the walk-in closet!”
“I find that highly unlikely!” said Harold.
“It’s a silverback! It’s grabbing my hair!”
“Don’t tell fibs!” said Harold.
“Ow, my arm! It’s hitting me!”
“Oh wait,” said Harold. He grabbed a dart gun. “Sorry, I was reading the insurance policy wrong.”
Twelve days had passed since my enemies’ arrival, each day spent cowering in fear under a mossy overhang as projectiles exploded left and right. Brokenness and waste were all around me.
Today, I would fight back. I felt my weapon’s comforting heft, stepped out, and soaked my cousin so bad.