Bollenhall is not a nice place. It is hot, dry, and boring. Very few tourists go there on vacation.
Most of Bollenhall’s residents leave when they reach adulthood. The mayor passed a “free cake on Thursdays” bylaw to convince people to stay.
Bollenhall’s residents are hot, dry, bored, and fat.
This story was based on the prompt “but there’s cake” at TypeTrigger. Read other writers’ responses here.
Klug the caveman grunted happily. Yes, he thought. I’ve got it!
The sand in front of him was littered with physics equations, signifying a lifetime of theoretical contemplation. He’d discovered the mathematical basis of both teleportation and time travel!
Now he just needed a few millenia to invent the equipment.
This story was based on a title suggested by @abapicalTaenia, through his preorder of Feel-Good.
Anna was once again berating the office printer. Her list of irritations was well into double figures by 11 AM. The printer finally kicked out the presentation and Anna went back to her claustrophobic cubical.
The printer sighed. “No ‘thank you’ again. Maybe tomorrow I just won’t turn on at all!”
Amy who lives in a black hole training to be an apple, but it’s all coming out pear shaped. Luckily she has her helper dog, Ellie, to munch on the worms. Read her blog at www.Blind-Style.com.
Bethany stormed into the panda run.
Sammy and Florence, the local inmates, sauntered over and began looking for treats.
“He won’t listen!” said Bethany, stifling a sob.
The pandas’ faces drooped.
“Can’t he see how lonely you are? All we want is a couple of play dates with the orangutans.”
He’d been flirting with me for months. He always tried to make eye contact, and smiled extra big, and laughed at all my jokes.
When my friends asked, I said he “wasn’t my type,” and changed the subject.
Then one day he forgot to shave, and I fell in love.
This story was based on the TypeTrigger prompt “stubble.”
Jurgen shook free of the dog’s steel-trap grip and tossed it over the cliff. For a moment, he felt guilty; then he cleansed the useless emotions from his mind.
They were coming, with guns and flashlights.
If the animal shelter would not give him a pet, he would take one.
Cynthia had made a habit of sneaking cookies out of the jar when Mom left the room.
One day, Mom caught her, and Cynthia received a crisp slap on the wrist.
The next afternoon, Cynthia emerged from her bedroom with foam padding taped to her wrists, and took a cookie.
This story was based on the prompt “slap on the wrist” at TypeTrigger.
They stood by the charred crater that had been their home and listened to the wind.
It told them, You’ve been hard done by.
It said, They had no right.
It whispered, Independence is our destiny.
It commanded, Hoist the New Antland flag, stand tall, and let the humans come.
“I have launched a satellite that can incinerate any city I choose!” Dr. Ruination announced over the hacked satellite feeds. “I demand fifty billion dollars or I lay waste to Portugal!”
It was an arbitrary demand. Dr. Ruination was just bored. He hated when there was nothing good on TV.
This is the last in a series of five stories by King Kool.
Dr. Ruination glowered across the table at superspy John Bolt. He tapped his fork, waiting for Bolt to start dining. Since they’d ordered the same meal, Dr. Ruination wasn’t positive he hadn’t received the poisoned one. He could have thrown his meal away, but he never liked to waste food.
This is the fourth in a series of five stories by King Kool.