A mouse lived inside my walls. I tried to feed it cheese and peanut butter and other tasty things.
“I cannot take your gifts, sir,” it said. “I am afraid you will trap me!”
I convinced it I wouldn’t. We became friends.
A small problem: my rodent-phobic wife found out.
This story is based on a title suggested by @eikoandmog.
There is a monster in the mountains that preys on bumblebees, daffodils, and woodland creatures, swallowing them whole into its enormous belly.
Some say there’s a garden in there, a paradise where the flowers bloom and the wildlife lives on, frolicking. They’ve forgotten that the monster once swallowed a bear.
This story was based on the prompt “in the mountains” on TypeTrigger.
She transferred to four different buses at random, closed her eyes and spun in a circle, walked down a few unfamiliar side streets, and wound up right in front of her house.
Again.
There was only one explanation: Mom hadn’t been lying; her father really had been a homing pigeon.
She sang beautifully. When it ended they rose to their feet in awe and appreciation, begging for more.
“Ever heard of having too much of a good thing?” she chided them. Still they implored her: a little longer!
To prove her point, she barred the exits during her three-day encore.
“I’m a world-class artiste!” the actress pronounced. “I require the perfect environment to nurture my delicate muse.”
“So it’s your muse who eats six pounds of blue Smarties every day, then?” muttered her browbeaten young assistant.
“Silly boy; we don’t eat them! We throw them out the window at people.”
Creative people are weird. Cough.
This story was based on a title suggested by @Vigafray.
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.