It was a dark and stormy night.
Good thing I’d brought my flashlight and umbrella. Man do I hate being wet. It’s pretty much the worst. I’d rather be sunburned a hundred times than have to go slogging through the rain. At least it’s warm.
Nothing interesting happened that night.
It’s, like, a character study or something. The fact that this story has no plot makes it super artistic. Trust me. Besides, look at that title. You just know something like that is packed with meaning.
She’d forgotten where it came from. Maybe she’d won it in a game of bingo that time she went to Paris…
Now and then it made funny noises when she went down the steps.
It seemed so content, sitting there under her front porch. Her very own happy little universe.
This story was based on this prompt from @Haberley.
“Did you know there’s a species of cow that has four bladders?”
“Where did you read that?”
“International Bovinarium Magazine. Also, they can hold their breath underwater for three hours, and their flesh tastes like boiled daffodils. It’s true!”
“Whatever, man.”
The Oft-Whizzing Cow-Whale: a true treasure of Mother Nature.
“Hey!” someone shouted from behind her.
Mary turned to look. An elderly gentleman was rubbing his throat confusedly.
“Ow!” cried someone else, rubbing the back of their head.
A hand suddenly covered her eyes; a pen was at her throat. “Gotcha, honey.”
Having a commando for a husband was… exciting?
Welcome to This Country! proclaimed the sign.
“Why does it say ‘This Country,’ Dad?” asked Emma. “I thought we were going to That Country.”
“We were,” said her dad. “And now we’ve arrived. Isn’t This Country so much prettier than There?”
“I thought we just came from Here…”
“We did.”
English is fun!
“Do you drool while you sleep? I know I do!” enthused the man on the television. “Wish you had dryer sheets? I’ve got your secret weapon!
“Our patented combination of butter and mouthwash turns your midnight drool into sweet-smelling, easy-cleaning wax! You can even cook with it later!
“Problem solved!”
@Stealingzen responded to a call for prompts with the words “butter,” “mouthwash,” and “dryer sheets.” I admit I may have subverted his intentions on the dryer sheets a little.
All was still in Buckingham Palace. Not even the royal mice were stirring, despite the delicious royal peanut butter that had been slathered on the royal mouse traps to stop them from stealing the Queen’s royal hair ties.
They’re learning, thought the Royal Hair Tie Protector to himself. The fiends.
@Zutzy responded to my call for three nouns to base a story on with “peanut butter,” “hair tie”, and “Buckingham Palace.”
The ketchup was all gone, and it was nearly midnight. Tembothy knew that if he wanted to fully enjoy his hot dogs and his macaroni, he’d probably have to wait until morning.
Then he remembered that there was a twenty-four-hour corner store down the street!
Sadly, it was sold out.
“I posit that the egregious offence committed by the defendant was an act of premeditated hostiliaminity!” shouted the Loopy Lawyer.
“I object!” cried the Batty Barrister. “My client pleads insanity! He thinks he’s a creaky shovel. Look at his fez! This marriage is clearly illegaloramious.”
“Sustained,” said the Jovial Judge.
The title for this story was suggested by ThePhailhaus. I was forced to use the words egregious, creaky, fez, and shovel. Ergo, the silliness of this story is all everyone else’s fault.
It was a Thursday.
On Thursdays, Prysanthemum the Pug went to the baths from two to four o’clock. That made for prime adventuring time for his Doghouse, Dot. Glory, honour, excitement, fortune, and renown lay just over the horizon!
But first, Dot had to overcome one minor obstacle: voluntary movement.